


Liberate

by Lilyliegh



Series: Camp Vrains AU [5]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Camp Vrains, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Dark Past, Dark Themes Around Kidnapping, Demigods, Friendship, Gen, Horror, Kidnapping, Magic-Users, Rescue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-07-24 19:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16181525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilyliegh/pseuds/Lilyliegh
Summary: A demigod rescue mission with Jin and Kusanagi turns horribly wrong, prompting Yuusaku, Takeru, Ryouken, and Spectre to head off in search of the culprit for answers about who would want the power of young demigods. Unfortunately, it's a much greater mess than any of them could have imagined.Discontinued.





	1. ONE: To the Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> it's the very first Camp Vrains AU longfic! this is technically supposed to be a Halloween fic, but chances are it'll be posting way past October; i have a lot of ideas for this story! anyways, while this is part of the Camp Vrains AU, i've written it so you need no background knowledge to begin reading here. you'll notice that there are previous fics in the series: those are one-shots to offer some backstory on the main cast and crew, but by no means do you need to read them first or in order or anything.
> 
> i'll be posting this fic **every Thursday** unless something personal arises. please enjoy!

"Yuusaku, relax. It'll be fine."

Yuusaku thinks it'll be anything but fine. Takeru put his name down for this—without his permission—and now he's stuck tagging along with Jin and Kusanagi as they rescue another demigod and safely transport them to Camp Vrains. It sounds good in theory, but he can't stop scratching his nails against the seat or tapping his toes together. The van is small, and he's crammed between Kusanagi and Jin. Unlike their normal camp wear, they're dressed as casual citizens in jeans and t-shirts and loose overshirts. They look like they should be vacationing in the tropics.

"Yuusaku," Jin says again, clicking his teeth together. "Are you squished? Do you need more space?"

Jin wriggles to the side, but it gives Yuusaku maybe another inch of breathing room. The van is technically only meant for two people in the front seat, but there's a third seat belt crammed into the vehicle with just enough space for a third person. And since Jin and Kusanagi have begun taking demigods along on their rescue missions, this third seat has become invaluable. Yuusaku doesn't mind the rescue mission; it's the fact that  _ he's  _ part of it.

He pulls at his overshirt and the collar of his t-shirt. Who wears v-neck t-shirts nowadays? Sure, he hasn't been outside of Camp Vrains in a year, but he knows fashion trends haven't changed that much. If anything, they'll all stick out like sore thumbs.

Sighing, he rolls his head to the side. It takes at least an hour to fly out of Camp Vrains; the perimeter extends past the main tower and reaches out to the little, floating islands. Past the islands, there's simply coding designed to look like blue sky and clouds. Up ahead of them, about a hundred feet or so, is the only way in and out of Camp Vrains: a doorway cut out from the sky, and with a painted sun on it. From the camp centre or even the islands, the sun is impossible to see. If anyone ever tried to escape out of Camp Vrains, they'd need to know where exactly the one door is and fly off in that direction. It would take  _ days  _ to circle the perimeter looking for the little sun. But Jin and Kusanagi have done this mission plenty of times, and find the door with ease.

Rubbing his hands together, Jin says, "Excited to see what the world outside of Camp Vrains is like?"

Yuusaku blinks. "Not really," he says. "It shouldn't have changed much."

Kusanagi laughs outright. "I'm with you, Yuusaku: the world always looks like the same old place ... unless there's an apocalypse, that is."

"There's no apocalypse," Jin says, rolling his eyes.

"I know. That's why the world still looks so boring."

Huffing, Jin says, "Well I still think it's beautiful. It looks different every time we go there: new people, new buildings, new sounds and sights and smells. It's like stepping into a new universe every time we come here." He lets out a long sigh, and cups a hand under his chin. Then, spotting Yuusaku looking at him from the corner of his eye, he adds, "Yuusaku, can I trust you with a secret?"

"A secret?" Yuusaku swallows. Camp leaders shouldn't be sharing top-secret information with young demigods, not unless they want the camp in danger. But rather than looking apprehensive, Jin bounces his head up and down enthusiastically.

"Do you know how to get home from Camp Vrains?"

Yuusaku shakes his head.

"Follow Stardust Road to the centre of the light."

"... what?"

"See, no one believes you when you tell them that," Kusanagi says. He drums his hands on the wheel, and then veers the car off to the side. The great sun appears before them. As Yuusaku squints his eyes, he sees that the yellow isn't paint, or any sort of marking, but instead a  _ hole  _ in the camp's coding, and the yellow fizzling bits are where the sky has been torn apart. The hotdog truck passes easily through the hole, and for a moment they're in darkness.

Up ahead appears a small, white light, like the glow from a flashlight.

"This is how to get out of the camp," Kusanagi explains. "I bet you didn't see where we took off from, so you'll never try to leave Camp Vrains. Don't worry, it's not like we're keeping you prisoner here. Well ... actually we are, but  _ anyways."  _ He chuckles loudly. "What's important for you to know, Yuusaku, is that if you get separated from us, you need to find your way home. That's what Jin's trying to tell you, but he's acting like it's some code. So ..."

The truck pierces through the light. Yuusaku squeezes his eyes closed, and only opens them with Kusanagi taps him on the shoulder and says, "We're here. Open up."

The first thing he wants to say is that Jin was absolutely right. Ahead of him is a sea dotted with small, white stars. There are stars in the sky, where they belong, but the sea glows too. The truck drops down onto the water, but instead of sinking, it glides over the lapping waves. Beneath the truck grows a path like a great, green sea snake—the stars here aren't white, but blue and green and some gem-like colours in between. The truck follows the snaking path through the water, where Yuusaku sees it leads to the shore.

"You can't see behind us," Jin says. "But the moon's there. So that's how you get home: follow Stardust Road—this path here—all the way out to the centre of the light. If you're followed, don't worry; Camp Vrains has antivirus and protection software, so no one but demigods can head inside."

"But you need to know how to get home, just in case," Kusanagi says, and his voice drops to a grim note.

Jin reaches across the van to bonk his brother on the head with one closed fist. "Don't say stuff like that! You'll scare him."

"I'm not scared," Yuusaku says. "It makes sense."

"Well, still," Jin says. "Nothing terrible happens on these missions."

"Not to us, at least."

Yuusaku bites back a snort, and he can't help but ask, "You still kidnap the kids?"

Naturally, Jin panics, throwing his hands up in the air. "It's not like that at all!" he says. "It's nothing like kidnapping—we're saving demigods from a city that isn't quite ready to take care of them. That's not what kidnappers do at all." He lets out a long, slow breath, and then calmly folds his hands before him. "If you're asking whether or not we put the kid in the backseat and drive them to the camp, then yes. We still do that."

Yuusaku brings his hand up to his mouth to hide his smile. He sees Kusanagi swallow a laugh too. They've been doing this for years, and while they have tried several solutions, this particular method works the best. Yuusaku remembers his own experience of being rescued well: his demigod powers had been so destructive and out of control that he'd popped two of the wheels, busted the gas engine, and nearly had the whole city come toppling down on the hotdog truck before they'd even made it to Stardust Road.

Speaking of the kid ...

Yuusaku glances at the folder in Jin's lap. "Who're we looking for?" he asks.

"Oh right, the kiddo!" Jin says. He flips open the manila folder and begins leafing through dozens of pages: Ema's extensive background information on the child. While Yuusaku has never seen these files before, he knows the sort of information Ema collects. She observes demigod children for weeks to learn about their personalities and abilities. She collects records from the schools, hospitals, and government agencies to learn about the life of the demigod. She learns about their friends and family too. Then she compiles it all together so that, when Jin and Kusanagi head out to look for the child, they're fully aware what sort of rescue mission they should expect.

Jin flips the folder inside out and points to the page glued onto the back. "Age 10. Parents both work for the government. She goes to ..." He squints. "Den City Middle School. Hey, isn't that where you went to school, Yuusaku?"

"Mhm."

"Well, she'll be around there today. If Ema's detailed schedule for Tuesday is correct, she has classes until three o'clock. She won't have classroom duty today because it was her turn three days ago, and she only has club on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. On Tuesday, she either goes home or heads to the park."

Yuusaku nods his head, and jumps as the hotdog van leaps over the stone wall around the water. They land on top of a long road—the boardwalk around Stardust Road and the ocean—and begin to drive down it as if they weren't just gliding over the water. Now that they're parallel to the sea, Yuusaku can spot the glowing sun above the sky. There's a bit of light beneath it that appears as a second sun, but if he weren't looking specifically for it, it would appear as a trick of light.

"The path home," Jin says. "Now." He clears his throat with a sharp cough, and then continues: "We're going to the school first."

Yuusaku tilts his head. "But didn't you just say she'll be at her house or park?"

"We won't know," Kusanagi says, "so we'll follow her from the school and see where she goes."

It still doesn't make sense to Yuusaku. "Why don't you do what you did with me: pick her up on the side of the road and throw her in the van?" He raises an eyebrow. "Or did you change that tactic since last year?"

Jin purses his small, pink lips. "No, we still do that," he says. "But this kid is a child of Hephaestus, and thus quite the pyromaniac. Think of your friend Takeru, but with less ... destructive potential. She's still a spitfire, and Ema's made a special note that she's become quite skilled at chasing people with a fire-snake. So instead of approaching her and startling her, we're going to try and befriend her."

Yuusaku glances from Jin to Kusanagi, and then crosses his arms. "This is a new truck, isn't it?" He snorts. "Don't want to wreck the new paint job, Kusanagi?"

"Yep."

Jin sighs noisily through his nose. "Fine," he says. "But our plan is for you, Yuusaku, to befriend her."

He freezes. "...what?"

"Ema has noted here that she's quite friendly with other demigods. Apparently when Ema showed her a magic trick, the girl was absolutely fascinated. She's probably interested in people who she feels are like her—"

"But wait." Yuusaku holds out his hands, and snaps both of his fingers together. "No magic. I'm a demigod, but I don't have supernatural powers that make sparks or fire-snakes or anything."

"Maybe you could if someone attacked you," Kusanagi says, and then apologises with Yuusaku glowers at him. He doesn't want his powers to activate at all. While he doesn't have quite the reputation as Takeru, he still has one. He's part of the Disaster Trio: one of three demigods with a particular affinity for causing mischief. Technically, the name doesn't even fit; there's four of them—him, Takeru, Ryouken,  _ and Spectre _ —and in no way are they all friends causing trouble together, but rather two sets of friends who awkwardly run into each other and somehow cause camp-wide catastrophes. But still. Yuusaku doesn't like his karma powers, and he'd rather not use them around anyone, much less a young child.

"You don't have to use your powers," Jin says, lightly setting a hand on Yuusaku's shoulder.

Yuusaku shrugs him off.

"You can do what Ema did: a magic trick."

"Huh?"

"Y'know, like pull a bunch of handkerchiefs out of your sleeve or make flowers appear behind someone's ears."

Kusanagi swallows a laugh. "Or pull a rabbit out of a hat."

"Be serious," Jin says, "and don't miss the turn, it's coming up."

Yuusaku tilts to the side as the van swings around, but he stills himself as he stares at Jin like he's grown a second head.

Jin frowns. "What?"

"How am I supposed to pull magic tricks like that? I have no props, much less training."

Grinning ear to ear, Jin reaches down and pulls out a small, store-bought package. He passes it to Yuusaku, who tosses it around from hand to hand. He can see a deck of cards, and a long, colorful strip of fabric that he supposes must be the handkerchiefs. On the front of the package reads: "Instructions included!" But when Yuusaku tears the package open, he finds a little piece of folded-up paper with four drawings on it, no words or proper instructions.

"This isn't going to help," he says.

"Sure it is," Jin says. He scoops up the handkerchief and goes to shove it up his sleeve ... only he then realises that he, as well as Kusanagi and Yuusaku, are all wearing short-sleeve overshirts. So he shoves it all in his pocket instead, leaving only a small piece hanging. "Ask the kid if they can get the fabric out of your pocket, and then laugh with them as they pull out this entire string of sewn-together handkerchiefs. They'll laugh themselves silly."

"I don't think they will," Yuusaku says. "What kid is going to reach into your pocket?"

Grumbling, Jin yanks the cloths out and shoves it into the glove box. He has to push it closed with his feet because it's become so full of food wrappers and paperwork. Then he pulls out the deck of cards from the pile in Yuusaku's lap and shuffles them. He peers at the little paper Yuusaku shows him, but apparently he can't make much sense of it either, twisting his lips together and frowning so deeply that crevices appear in the middle of his forehead.

"Huh," he says at last, and then glowers at his brother when Kusanagi starts cackling away.

"I said it wasn't going to work," Kusanagi said. "I told you."

"Be quiet," Jin mutters. "We're nearly there anyways."

Glancing up from his lap, Yuusaku spots the school in the distance. Though he's with Kusanagi that not much has changed in this city, he understands where Jin is coming from: after not seeing a place for a while, his eyes fill with nostalgia and wonder. The school itself is the same, beige building with a crisp, navy blue trim. The courtyard out front has a small climbing structure, and then several picnic tables where Yuusaku remembers older students would study at lunch or after classes. From the ground level, he can't see the tennis courts in the back or the pool, but he figures they're still there.

"Are we going in?" he finds himself asking.

"Curious to see how it's changed inside?" Jin says, and chuckles into a fist. "It'll have to be a trip for another time, all right? Today we're running a tight schedule. School should end in ..." He checks his watch. "Four minutes."

"And she'll come right out?" Kusanagi asks.

"She should," Jin says.

Yuusaku has to voice the thought: "What if she doesn't?"

Jin raises an eyebrow. "You mean, what if she stays in? Then that's easy: you and I will go into the school and look for her, and my brother will stay back and watch the van. Just like how we rescued you. But there's no reason why she shouldn't come out; as I said, she has no class duty or club meeting."

Yuusaku still feels a pit of uneasiness in his stomach. It wasn't there when he took off for the trip, or when he landed, but now he feels his nerves on guard for something to go wrong. Maybe it's his karma powers sensing the chance of wrongness, or maybe it's the memory of when he was rescued and brought to the camp; at the time, it was a rather terrible memory of being tossed into a van and driven out of the city. Yuusaku wonders if his powers will activate if the child tries to run away? Will he stop Kusanagi purely because he still has some doubts about how they "rescue" children? Or will his powers activate on something else? He can be destructive too.

"Time's up," Jin says, and on cue the school bell rings.

"It's showtime," Kusanagi says, drumming his hands on the dashboard.

Yuusaku swallows thickly.

Jin pushes the file in between all three of them, and points to the picture of the child. "Look for her. Spot her face in the crowd." Yuusaku nods his head. She'll be one of the older children at the school, and likely one of the tallest. Though she'll be wearing the same uniform as everyone else, Yuusaku memorises the soft, pinky-red colour of her hair and the flick of yellow curled above her brow.

The first students rush out of the school. They all look the same at first, a sea of black trousers and skirts and white shirts, with only the single defining feature being  _ hair colour.  _ But then Yuusaku's eyes narrow to every spot of red and pink that he sees. He scans the crowd, focusing only on the red, the pink, the—

"Spotted her!" Yuusaku says. "There." He jabs his finger onto the windshield and drags it down as he follows her down the pathway. After a moment, Jin and Kusanagi both let out a little "oh,” and Kusanagi even mutters, "Damn your eyesight is good."

Jin lets out a sigh of relief. The papers in his lap flutter together. "All right, now we just follow her in the car. Not like stalking, just like ... Oh fine."

But as the child passes through the gates, she turns neither left nor right. She crosses the street and heads down the road they came down. Yuusaku's eyes widen. Where is she ...

"Where's she going?" Jin says. He begins flipping through papers, nearly ripping them apart; he looks up over the dashboard, then down at the documents. Back and forth, back and forth, until he blurts out, "Follow her, she's off track."

The pit drops deep into Yuusaku's stomach. "What?"

"She—she's not supposed to go that way? Where—where is she—" Jin can hardly get a word out, and his face has gone white and pale. Yuusaku has never seen him become so stressed before, not even when a demigod has fought tooth and nail to get out of the van, not even when the camp went into hiding for half a day because they thought the security had been breached. Jin looks like he's seen death.

"It's fine," Kusanagi growls out. "It's fine. Jin, write down where she's going, what roads she's turning down. We need to track her."

Yuusaku swallows thickly. "Are we rescuing her today?"

"Depends," Kusanagi says through his teeth.

_ On what?  _ Yuusaku wants to ask, but he dreads the answer. If Ema's information is false, that must mean something has changed—something that not even Ema, their best hacker and spy, could detect. Demigods are preyed upon by several people who want them as research subjects or pets or even their own children: people who want a demigods' powers, but do not care for the child themselves. Camp Vrains acts as a sanctuary for children and teens with magical abilities; it puts the person before their powers, so to speak.

The truck roars to life. It pulls such a sharp u-turn that Yuusaku tumbles into Jin, and the magic tricks scatter all over the floor. Both of them are too startled to care about cheap tricks now. The truck hurries off down the road, stopping only when they approach her, who skips happily down the street. She looks unaffected, and there's nothing in her hands or on her phone that suggests she's following directions.

"Where's she going?" Jin says.

"Relax," Kusanagi says, patting his brother on the shoulder. "Ema probably just made a mistake."

"She never makes a mistake."

"Well if we tell her about this time, she'll be sure to never do it again. Now ..." Kusanagi rubs his chin, and slowly parks the car a block ahead of her. He turns off the engine and pulls out a newspaper which he sets on the steering wheel. Yuusaku raises an eyebrow—is this really the time to be reading?—but he nods in understanding when he sees Jin pull out a paperback book from the glove compartment and hold it in his shaking hands. They're undercover now.

"If she turns down the road," Kusanagi explains, "you and Yuusaku will get out of the car and follow her. If she keeps walking down this road, then we let her be and see where she goes. For all we know, she's heading to her friend's place. We can't assume anything until we see it."

Yuusaku nods his head. Where they've parked looks as normal as can be, but it all feels wrong. The houses look too normal with their peaked roofs and stone fences. The road looks too clean, and there are too many cars parked on such a residential street. He begins to peer through the windshields of each one to spot anyone, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Jin and Kusanagi doing the same over the top of their reading material.

Jin lets out a whimper first. "Fourth car ahead of us, red. There's someone in it."

Kusanagi slowly turns the key. The engine roars to life, and a flock of pigeons scatter up into the air.

Yuusaku sucks in a breath. Surely no one else is going to kidnap the kid, right? That's never happened before. There's no one else out there protecting demigods, so ...

A woman climbs out of the red car.

"Go."

The van shoots forward down the road as if there are rockets built underneath it, and screeches to a halt at the corner of the road. Yuusaku squeezes his eyes shut as they nearly hit the woman, but the truck blocks her off from the child. As Yuusaku's eyes snap open, Jin kicks open the door and rushes out. Yuusaku has seen the rest before, but this time they're panicked and ready to run: Jin throws open the side door, picks up the child as if she weighs no more than a bag of sugar, and tosses her into the truck. He slams twice on the side of the truck, just enough time for Kusanagi to rev the engine and shoot forward; and in that time Jin falls into the front seat and yanks the door closed.

The truck takes off down the road. Yuusaku has never seen Kusanagi so severe before: he's bitten his lip so hard he's drawn blood, and he grips the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles have turned white. He doesn't obey any street sign or traffic light, flying through intersections and weaving through cars.

"Y-you got her?" Yuusaku says. He winces when his voice wobbles.

Jin doesn't answer him. "Kusanagi, faster."

"I see," he growls back.

"See what?" Yuusaku says. From his spot in the middle of the front seat, he can see only slivers of either side mirror, and it doesn't ease his panic. "What's there?"

"The woman," Jin says, and swallows. "She's following us."

"Is that ..." Normal? A common occurrence? No one followed the hotdog truck when Yuusaku was rescued, but perhaps that was a while ago.

"It's going to be fine," Jin says, more to soothe himself than anyone else. "We've got—"

_ Crack!  _ The side of the van pops out like someone just sucker-punched the van. Even from the middle seat, Yuusaku can see the convex wall.

"Her ability activated," Kusanagi says. "Yuusaku, can you reflect that?"

"Reflect? My powers don't work like that."

"How about calm her down? Are you good with kids?"

His throat knots together, and he feels like all the air around him has been sucked away. Why oh why did Takeru have to sign him up for this mission? What good could this do him?

_ Boom! _

"Shit!"

Part of the truck has burned away from her constant attacks. Over the sound of his own beating heart, Yuusaku can hear her screaming away, just like he once did. He wants to put his hands over his ears to stop his mind from replaying those images, but he sees them again and again and again, and though Camp Vrains was good for him, he remembers the fear of being taken away, and he remembers the fear even before that of being different and strange—

"Hey!" she gasps, and then then truck falls deathly quiet.

It's Jin who speaks up: "I think her ability backfired. Good job, Yuusaku."

He lets out a heavy sigh. "So her ability did—"

The rest of his thoughts tumble together as  _ he  _ tumbles over and over. The truck flips through the air and then lands on the ground, screeching to the side with the sound of nails on a chalkboard. Yuusaku covers his ears and steadies himself, which isn't hard when he's fallen into Jin, and Kusanagi has fallen into him. They're a pile of bodies while the truck is totaled and beyond repair.

In the cracked and broken windshield, Yuusaku sees the woman step forward. She's older, maybe in her late twenties, with short, red hair curled around her round face. She looks like a doctor of some sort by the white skirt and jacket, and she has black flats that clickety-clack over the pavement and around to the van.

Head spinning, Yuusaku slams into Jin, who groans too. His eyes follow the woman's legs as she passes by them, and then, with renewed strength, he shoots forward and through the windshield, Yuusaku hot on his heels. Glass stings his hands and knees as he tumbles forward, and a sharp piece slices straight down his back. He howls, but gets up on his feet and whirls around.

The woman has climbed up the side of the upturned truck and stands in the opening. She leans in, and then comes back holding a hand.

"Stop!" Jin screams. He yanks his hand to his side, and from thin air he draws a wooden broadsword, his weapon of choice in combat. He charges the woman and knocks into her, and she drops the child back into the truck. The woman rolls back, but lands smoothly on her feet, and draws a gun from a pocket in her jacket.

"Give her."

Jin swings the sword forward, smacking the top of the blade. "Yuusaku, run!"

He doesn't need to be told twice. He rushes to the truck and reaches inside. The child i's in there, knocked unconscious with a nasty cut above her eyebrow. Yuusaku pulls her out of the truck and hauls her up into his arms. And then freezes. The truck is busted. They're locked in combat, and who knows who else is around. Kusanagi is unconscious—how else can they escape? 

Jin screams it again: "Yuusaku, run!"

So he does. He turns heel and dashes through the streets. He knows this city; he grew up here. Every part of him knows where he needs to go: back to Stardust Road, back home. He hugs her tightly to him. Demigods need to make it back to Camp Vrains. He knows it. And whatever is chasing them can't come after him if they make it back to camp. 

He weaves down side streets, feet slapping the pavement. When the sidewalk is blocked, he runs on the road or in the bike lane. He keeps checking over his shoulder for any sign of another kidnapper, anyone that could hurt him.

When he sees the next white-coat person, his heart leaps into his chest. How does he tell who is a friend or foe? Is this simply a pedestrian, or a kidnapper?

He locks eyes with the person.

The stranger takes a step forward.

A fire hydrant bursts open, sending a jet of water into the air only to crash down on everything and everyone nearby, including the stranger. Yuusaku counts his silent blessings as he dashes down the nearest street, clutching the child as tightly as he can. His eyes scan the perimeter for any signs of white-coat people, but he doesn't dare look behind him. If he does, he'll slow down. The exploding fire hydrant is only a diversion, not a proper escape route.

Up ahead, Yuusaku sees a crest of blue. He speeds up, heart hammering in his chest. This is more activity than he's ever done in his full year of Camp Vrains. But this feels different. At camp, he fights himself and his inability to master his powers; but out here, he fights for others.

With a cry, he jumps over the fence bordering the ocean and down onto the sea. He hopes he lands on Stardust Road and doesn't simply fall into the water, but if he does, he'll be safer there than on land.

His feet neither hit the water nor the stars.

Just as he jumps, someone catches him round the waist: a man on a floating board, with green hair and a toadish face. His grin sends shivers down Yuusaku's spine. Just like the other figures, he wears a white lab coat and white pants, appearing like some sort of cursed spectre. Despite his shorter, leaner appearance, he holds Yuusaku with a vice-like grip over the side of the board.

"I'll be taking her," he says, reaching out with his free hand to grab the kid.

A wave bursts up from the boardwalk and knocks into them. Yuusaku clings tightly to her, but as the wave knocks into the stranger and the board, it grabs Yuusaku's ankles too and roughly pulls him down like a vile sea serpent. His wet fingers slip off her arms, and Yuusaku tumbles back into the water. He lands on Stardust Road with a dull thud, and the air whooshes out from his lungs.

Up above him, the stranger gives an odd wave, and then tucks the child under his arm like a doll. Then he takes off into the air on his strange, hoverboard, and disappears into the dark rain clouds.

Rain pelts his face. It muddies the starry sea and darkens the entire sky, until Yuusaku can see nothing even with the streetlights. He lies on Stardust Road, in too much pain to even move. To his side, the waves crash and roar and bang into the seaboard like angry fighters. His powers are still activated, but it'll do no one any good now. Yuusaku doubts Jin and Kusanagi got away too, and if they did, they likely didn't run into whoever captured her.

His whole body aches, even parts of him that never landed on the road. It feels like pain that won't go away with rest and medicine, but that'll leak into him.

It's not even sunny when Jin pokes his head over Stardust Road, followed by Kusanagi, and they stare down at him lying on the water. Both of them look thoroughly beaten and ragged; it doesn't help that the rain has drenched all of them to the bone, and they look like they waded through a river.

Jin and Kusanagi hop down and help him to his feet. Yuusaku stands, but his mind doesn't register he's standing or walking. He feels like his soul has dropped out of his body and sunk to the bottom of the ocean, and he'll never be able to recover it until he can rescue that kid.

His stomach twists.

That kid—that little kid, so young to be a demigod, younger than he was even, who probably would have excelled at Camp Vrains. That kid is  _ gone. _

He hears Jin breathe out a couple words that might be, "It's going to be OK," but over the sound of the heavy rain, Yuusaku doesn't hear anything. He doesn't want to. For the rest of the walk across Stardust Road, with its lights dim and flickering in the downpour, neither of them say anything.

After all, they'll be much to say when they report that, for the first time since the creation of Link Vrains, they failed to rescue a demigod.


	2. TWO: Empty Reassurances

For the entire ride back, Yuusaku feels like he's going to throw up. They have to walk across Stardust Road, which at one point would have been quite the romantic, moonlit stroll—but instead the stars are muddied the pelting, hail-sized raindrops, and at times the light disappears from beneath them and they walk across a dark, winding path over the waves and to the middle of the black sea.

Jin and Kusanagi walk on either side of him, supporting him with their shaky arms. Jin's white face glows in the darkness, and when he breathes, he lets out little puffs of air. The cold rain has seeped into their clothes, and out of the three of them, Jin is the thinnest. He shakes as he tries to hold Yuusaku upright. On his other side, Kusanagi looks like a battle-ridden warrior. It's incredible that he's able to walk after the car crash, but of the group, he's the least beaten-down by their circumstances. Yuusaku feels like he's practically being carried by Kusanagi.

Jin has his cell phone jammed into his ear. Over the sound of the rain, Yuusaku hears him saying: "Yes, yes, we're on our way, we'll be there soon. Yes, we'll take the car. No, we don't have the truck anymore, we're walking. Thanks." When he pockets the phone, he lets out a deep groan and hangs his head as if his bones have given up.

"That Ema?" Kusanagi asks.

"Yes," Jin says. "She'll be waiting for us."

"Good."

They walk as far out into the sea as they can. Without the clear moon to guide their path, he has no point of reference for when they cross out of the mundane world and back into Link Vrains. It feels like they're walking down the same, dark path for hours, until at last a beam of light hits him in the face, and Yuusaku snaps his eyes closed. 

When he opens them, he first notices that he's no longer standing in the rain. He's still wetter than a duck in the mud, and he shivers in his tourist clothes. But then he realises that not only is he no longer out of the rain, he's in someone's car, tucked in the back seat with a towel and blanket around his shoulders. He quickly glances left and right, only to breathe a sigh of relief when he spots Jin sitting in the back seat next to him.

"Hey," Jin says. He looks like he's aged a hundred more years. He always was an old soul living in a young man’s body, but now he looks like he's drunk an aging drought. He can barely keep his eyes open too, and he leans back in his seat. "How you doing?"

Yuusaku doesn't answer. Seated ahead of him is Kusanagi, feet up on the dashbox like they just went out for a drive. In the driver's seat is Ema. Yuusaku doesn't remember seeing Ema, or getting into her car. He supposes he blanked those memories out. That's only mildly worrying, he supposes. At least he's safe.

At Jin's words, Ema turns her head around and grins at him. "How you doing, kiddo?"

Yuusaku nods his head. If he opens his mouth, who knows what he'll say, or if he can say anything at all. He feels like he's woken up from a strange fever-dream and he has yet to get his bearings on this reality.

Carefully, Jin reaches over and tucks his hand under Yuusaku's bangs. Yuusaku flinches, but Jin removes his hand a moment later.

"No fever," he says. "Probably just shocked."

If Ema knows the severity of the situation, she doesn't act like it. She taps her manicured nails on the wheel, and says over her shoulder, "Well, we'll get you warmed up soon, don't you worry!"

Out the window, he seeks Camp Vrains come into view. Just like when he stepped into the mundane world, coming back to Camp Vrains seems like he's moving into a whole new city. But rather than feel a sense of ease for returning home, Yuusaku only feels sicker. Ema's flying car—not her flying bike, they never would have squeezed onto that—passes first over the cabins, then the main square. Yuusaku watches the camp blur by.

They land at the leader's cabin. For hosting three camp leaders, it's a modest building not unlike the cabins demigods sleep in. The walls are made of wooden logs stacked atop each other, and the roof peaks at a point. There are technically two levels, though like the other cabins, the attic is small and you have to crawl to move around.

"Come on in," Kusanagi says, opening the door for Yuusaku.

Yuusaku shakes his head. He wants to go back to his own cabin and lie on his bed and sleep the day away. He's never been in a leader's cabin before and he's not about to try it out.

"Yuusaku, work with me," Kusanagi says. "We'll take you back home in a moment. You're bleeding."

Blinking, Yuusaku brings a hand up to his face. Sure enough, blood has been dribbling down his cheek for who knows how long, stemming from a cut he received underneath his eye. The skin is tender and puffy, and he winces when his fingers brush over the abrasion.

"Yeah, see," Kusanagi says. "We'll be quick."

He slides out of the seat and follows the three camp leaders into the cabin. He expected their cabin to look much more lavish and mature inside, but just like his own cabin, it's "lived-in": there are books and magazines stacked in odd places, and wires trailing on the floor from the various video game consoles and televisions they've hooked up. Jin and Kusanagi sleep on one side of the room in bunk beds, and Ema sleep by herself and across from them. The space is cosy, and Yuusaku tucks his arms together as he passes the beds and settles down on the lumpy couch in the living room.

Ema settles down in front of him with a cloth, water, and a bandage. "Let's clean this up," she says, voice light and airy as if she's talking about the weather. She says nothing for a moment, and then, in the same normal voice, she asks, "So how'd you get this cut?"

Yuusaku shrugs.

"You don't remember, or you don't want to talk about it?"

Yuusaku turns his head, but as he moves, Ema clamps his chin with one hand. "Ah-ah, don't move or I'm going to poke a fingernail in your wound. But don't worry, I don't need to know. You're going to forget about what happened, all right? It won't happen again."

Her words sound even less reassuring than Jin's constant "It's going to be fine," on the walk across the ocean.

Peeking over her shoulder, Ema asks, "So boys, do any shopping while you were around? Did you have time to kill?"

Yuusaku raises an eyebrow. She's not asking about what happened? At all? But for the entire time Ema cleans his wounds and makes him coffee, she doesn't ask about the child or the mission. She doesn't even breach the topic, instead pretending like the three of them went out for a day-long vacation and simply got caught in the rain.

Once she's cleaning his wounds, Ema stands up and brushes herself off. "Are you all right to return to your cabin now?"

He blinks. That's ... it?

Slowly, he nods his head.

"Good, good. We'll come check up on you in a few hours, all right?"

"And if there's anything you want to talk about," Jin adds, "we're here for you."

Kusanagi gives him a quick salute. "See you at dinner."

Yuusaku gives them a short nod and then heads out the door. The moment the door closes, he dashes around the side of the cabin and presses his ear against the wood. His demigod powers don't give him any positive abilities beyond never getting hurt, but the cabin walls are thin, as Spectre has told him before, and he can hear Jin, Kusanagi, and Ema talking amongst themselves.

It's Ema who speaks up first, and she's by no means quiet: "What happened out there?"

"An ambush," Kusanagi says, voice low and guttural. "An ambush not recorded anywhere on our forms. The girl—was she a decoy or something?"

Ema scoffs, and Yuusaku bets she's begun pacing around the room. "No, are you actually serious? She was a demigod, one that I'd been watching for a  _ month.  _ What—what ambushed you guys?"

Jin's timid voice speaks up: "We don't know who it was. They—they—"

"When you observed her for a  _ month,"  _ Kusanagi cuts in, "was she hanging around people in white lab coats? Did you ever keep track of her everyone movement, or at least see if, say, on Tuesdays she was meeting with some shady people?"

"She's a kid! A ten year old kid! She wouldn't be hanging out with shady people!"

"Then  _ what?"  _ Kusanagi drives the words down, and Yuusaku pulls his ear away in shock. He's never heard Kusanagi raise his voice like that. Ever. Even when the grill wouldn't work and he dropped an f-bomb in front of all the young demigods, he always said it in a goofy, carefree way. He sounds absolutely panicked now.

"It's not my information!" Ema snaps. "So stop pinning this on me."

"Then what else? How else—"

"Were they looking for you?" Ema says. "Were they looking for you or the kid?"

"The kid," Jin says. "We ... we saw the kid leave the school and head down a different street, and when we followed her, we saw someone waiting in another car. When the person stepped out to approach the kid, we quickly intervened. But ..."

Kusanagi finishes: "But it was an ambush, or a trap, or something. They went after us, trying to get the kid out of the truck, trying to kill us. They could have been humans or demigods, I'm not sure, but they were intent on getting that kid as much as we were. Flipped the truck and everyone." He sighs, deep and rough, and his next words come out quieter. "If they weren't after us but the kid, that means it's someone after demigods."

Yuusaku feels his throat turn dry. There are people like that: adults who want to hurt or fix demigods. But he never thought they'd meet them on their missions. Most of those adults try to hack into Link Vrains and shut down the camp; they never go for newer demigods since their powers are so volatile and unpredictable.

Jin seems to be on the same train of thought as him.

"Do they know about us then?"

"About my files?" Ema says. "I handwrite those notes and only submit them electronically when the child is in our care. There's no way anyone but me has seen those notes, so if someone else is looking for demigods, they're gathering their own information."

"But we've never lost a kid before," Kusanagi says. "If someone else was targeting children, we'd be losing cases and never finding kids at school. That's never happened—and we found the kid this time, and that can't be a coincidence."

"It has to be," Ema says. "I never saw anyone."

Yuusaku hears the sigh in Jin's words. "Well then, until we learn more, we'll just have to be on better guard. Ema, you'll need to keep an eye out for any white-coat strangers—"

"What if they're not wearing lab coats?" Ema claps her hands together, and her next words come out jumbled. "I see kids with adults all the time: parents, friend's parents, teachers, counselors. What if they wore something different when they're observing?"

Kusanagi clicks his tongue together, a sound so familiar to Yuusaku that he can even remember the very first time he heard it on his first day at Camp Vrains. It's his verbal tic; it's how he knows Kusanagi is feeling himself and in a good—or at least better—mood.

"Like how we wear disguises? I guess. It makes sense then. But the people that we chased ..."

"There was a woman first," Jin says. "A woman with red hair. But she couldn't have been the only one ..."

"Yuusaku saw someone else," Kusanagi says. "He saw someone; I know it. We found him lying on Stardust Road absolutely petrified, and he ... He had the kid last. Jin was still fighting the woman when I took off down the road to find Yuusaku, but by the time I got there, he was practically unconscious and unresponsive."

Yuusaku swallows the pit in his throat. He remembers the stranger, every detail on his toadish face as he chased Yuusaku down the street and ripped the child out of his arms. He shivers at the thought.

"We're not asking Yuusaku to tell us," Ema says. "Not until he's better. Until then, I'll be on the lookout tomorrow for any suspicious redheads. You're not picking up any kids tomorrow, are you?" A pause. "Good. If there are people out there targeting demigods, we need to be on high alert in case anyone comes in here."

Yuusaku pulls his ear away from the wood. He could tell them tonight, maybe even tomorrow—but then, would that help them? If Ema didn't know of any strangers, and Jin and Kusanagi were unable to apprehend the strangers, do they stand a chance? Will kids go missing before they have a chance to rescue them? Shouldn't Jin and Kusanagi be heading out every day now to bring the kids to safety?

His head spins with hundreds of thoughts, and he stumbles back into the forest and towards a worn, chip-trail path leading to the city centre. It should feel bright and cheery, like a typical afternoon at Camp Vrains, but in reality a heavy cold has settled over his head and shoulders.

When he steps into the main square, the air feels wrong. Demigods are standing around, many of them clustered in pairs. Normally, they all wait to greet the new demigod, so this must be the welcoming committee. But with no new recruit in sight, everyone looks anxious and apprehensive. A dull murmur of suspicions and theories circulates in the heavy air. No one sounds positive.

Yuusaku keeps to the edges of the perimeter, cloaked in the shadows of the trees around the square. If he's seen, he'll only be bombarded with questions about the trip. Yuusaku doesn't want to talk to anyone about it.

He sneaks round the camp square and out to the dormitories. He avoids all major paths, struggling over bushes and vines and fallen tree stumps. Just last week, he and Takeru raced through these woods together; the forest had felt so familiar. Now his body resists each step he takes, and more than once he loses his footing and tumbles to his knees. Eventually, he makes it to his own cabin. The lights are off, and likely no one is sleeping or studying inside. But sitting on the front step is Takeru, snapping his fingers to create small sparks that he tries to bounce from hand to hand.

Yuusaku steps out of the shadows and coughs lightly into a fist.

_ Pop!  _ Startled, Takeru's fire powers leap out of control, and two fireballs shoot up into the sky. Takeru falls back with a gasp, and mutters out a, "Geez, give me some—wait, what happened to you?"

Yuusaku shrugs.

"No, no, no—look! You've got gauze on your face! What happened out there?" He hurries to his feet, and reaches out to touch Yuusaku's face. On instinct, Yuusaku bristles back, and a small zap of electricity cuts between them.

The first word out of Yuusaku's mouth is "Fine."

"F-fine?" Takeru's eyes widen. "Gosh, something happened, something  _ bad  _ happened! What—what went wrong?"

Yuusaku steps past him and trudges up the steps. He holds the door open for Takeru, who barges right in and kicks off his shoes. Yuusaku doesn't bother. He walks the three feet to his bed and flops down on the mattress with a dull thud.

Takeru flops down next to him.

"Something bad happened, didn't it?" His words are softer than even Ema's, and he cups a hand under his cheek. "You don't have to tell me everything, but just ... nod if I guess right, OK?"

Yuusaku dips his head forward.

"Good. Are you OK?"

How ... how does he begin to answer that? Yuusaku doesn't even know how he feels. Should he feel this way after everything has happened?

"Too hard of a question," Takeru says, and pinches his face together and scrunches up his nose. Sparks crackle around his fingertips, and he hurriedly shoves them under his stomach. Yuusaku hopes he doesn't set the bed sheets on fire. "OK, all right, how about this: did you get the kid?"

Yuusaku's throat closes up.

Takeru's eyes widen. "Oh," is all he says at first. Then "Well." Then, "Um." He fidgets on the bed, growing more agitated with each passing second. Finally, he presses his head down onto the blanket, closes his eyes, and lets out a deep breath from the bottom of his lungs. Yuusaku feels his own chest expand, and he lets out a weak breath that turns into a cough.

"Yeah," Takeru says. "Sorry 'bout that."

It's not much, and he says it so quietly that Yuusaku hardly hears him. The bed feels warmer, perhaps from Takeru's body heat ... or him nearly setting the sheets ablaze. But Yuusaku nestles deeper into the bed, mind weary. He wants to wake up and have this all return back to normal. But then an unsettling prickle in the back of his mind tells him to get up, do something, save the kid, fix the problem. The prickle doesn't have any answers to how he can do it, but it stops him from settling and closing his eyes.

"They'll get the kid back," Takeru says. He smiles widely, cheeks bright. His white hair is mussed and ruffled, and the red streaks look like licks of flames trying to set his hair on fire.

Yuusaku lifts a shoulder.

"Hey." Takeru thumps a hand on the bed. "They will. Trust me."

Takeru is too spirited and hopeful. Yuusaku heard the conversation in the leader's cabin: they have no clue what happened either, and no strong plans to move forward with. For now, they're sitting ducks unable to do a thing about the massive problem that could jeopardise the camp and demigods.

"It's going to get better," Takeru says.

Just like Jin's words, they're empty and hopeless. 


	3. THREE: Out of Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi there!  
> recently, i moved a significant number of time zones (GMT-07 to GMT-0), so updating maybe be at different times than before. i'm going to try my best to keep it around Wednesday for both European and North American time zones, but we'll see how that goes ^^;; 
> 
> anyways, enjoy chapter three! (:

Sure enough, before dinner, Jin and Kusanagi come to check up on him and ask him what he knows. They do it in a kind, almost parental way, but by that point Yuusaku feels like he can speak without vomiting, and he tells them as much as he can. Even though his memory is crystal clear, he struggles to use the right words, fumbling over this thoughts. It should be easy to tell them about a strange, green-haired man in a white lab coat, but Yuusaku has to doodle the man's features on a pad of paper to properly explain himself.

At the end of the chat, Kusanagi pats him on the shoulder, and Jin gives him a weak, watery smile.

"Take it easy," they both say.

"Don't bother going to class tomorrow if you don't feel like it," Kusanagi adds. "You look like you need the rest."

Then they both head out of the cabin and the door clicks closed behind them.

Around the corner, Takeru lets out a huge sigh and steps out, arms crossed. He twists his lips from side to side as if he's bitten a lemon, and then mutters, "So that's what happened, huh?"

"Yeah," Yuusaku says.

"But our leaders will find the kid, all right?"

"Yeah ..."

Takeru crouches down next to him, and leans close so he can peek under Yuusaku's bangs and find his glassy, green eyes. "You did what you could, all right? But enough of me talking, let's go find some dinner." He stands back up and heads off to the door, but Yuusaku remains planted on the bed, staring down at his clenched hands.

"Hey, Yuusaku ..."

"I'm going back for her."

"Back for ..." His eyes widen. "No, no, no—Yuusaku, those creeps will get you too! You know that! Even with your karma powers, you'd get caught. I bet they have protection against demigods."

Yuusaku shrugs. His karma magic worked just fine on the stranger. Where he went wrong was that he was suspended over the water and hanging by one hand. That won't happen again. If he caught them off guard, or better yet snuck into their base, he'd be able to rescue the kid, and any other lost demigods.

"Besides," Takeru says, "there's no way out—"

"There is." Yuusaku swallows, and tilts his head to the right. "Jin and Kusanagi made me close my eyes when we first took off so I didn't know which way we were heading, but I heard the river. We followed the river to the edge of the island, past the training courts ... and then off the island and out into the sky. Look for the sun."

"A-are you sure? What if you just heard someone watering their plants?"

Yuusaku shakes his head. "No, I know what I heard. I know where we went too. I know how to get there ... and back."

Takeru still doesn't look convinced, hands in his pockets. He shifts from foot to foot, and keeps on twisting his lips like he doesn't know what exactly he wants to say. When he does speak up, he says, "But ... what if you get caught?"

"I said—"

"What if you do? What then? You're obviously not going to tell the camp leaders because then you'll just get in trouble. You're going to solo-mission this, so no one else will know where you are. One day you'll just ..." He clenches his hands in fists; around his knuckles burst embers, but he doesn't shake them away. "Look, I know you want to make things right. You always do. But going back out there, where you don't know the city or the people or even where to begin—that's just ridiculous. At least sleep on the idea, and ... and I dunno, invite me along too."

Yuusaku blinks. "What?"

"You heard me," Takeru huffs, crossing his arms. He spins on his heel, but even from the back, Yuusaku can tell how much he's relaxed.

Stretching up to his feet, Yuusaku rolls the words off his tongue. "You want to come along?"

"It would be a better story if two demigods went missing," Takeru grumbles. "Or ... or we'd stand a better chance together. If you want to save the kid, you've got to admit that you need some help on this." Spinning on his heel, Takeru holds out an open hand. "Got it?"

Yuusaku glances down at Takeru's flaming hand and raises an eyebrow.

"Shit, shit!" Takeru waves his hand up and down to extinguish the flames, and then smiles sheepishly. "And that won't happen, all right? No disaster."

He's heard those lines before, but he chuckles and steps past Takeru and out the door. Takeru comes stumbling after him, but as Yuusaku heads towards the dining hall, Takeru steers him to the side, to where his cabin is.

"Hey, hey, this way," Takeru says, tugging him along.

Yuusaku brushes him off and follows along. All the cabins are clustered together in one corner of the island. All demigods are sorted into their own cabin based on their god-parent; thus, everyone in a specific cabin is a half-sibling. There's no order to the cabins, but ever since Spectre and Takeru started causing havoc—with Spectre inciting Takeru's powers to set the entire camp on fire—their cabins have been on separate sides of the cluster.

Since it's dinner time, the paths around the cabins are silent, and he hears his own footsteps crunch in the leaves. From time to time, there's a whisper of a conversation from either a cabin or the mess hall. Yuusaku breathes a silent prayer that no one is around.

At the very end of the camp cluster is Hephaestus' cabin. It looks like a typical old cabin, but there are bricks stuck into the crevices where the wood has rotted away, and a large gas heater is attached to the outside of the cabin. When Takeru opens the door, Yuusaku feels a whoosh of hot, sticky air on his face. It's boiling in here—and yet Takeru walks into the room like it's a mild, bearable heat.

Inside, the walls are reinforced with stone, and the beds are made of some metal that can withstand such a high heat. Nothing burns in this building, which is a relief because more than once Takeru's powers have activated and set other areas of the camp on fire. It's a camp-known truth that he's one of the least-experienced demigods they've ever hosted.

And yet he's one of the brightest, friendliest demigods out there.

Takeru returns triumphantly, holding hot dogs in one hand and roasting sticks in the other.

"Let's cook these!" he says, marching down the stairs. He holds the sticks like pitchforks, and raises them into the air as he begins to chant, "We're going on a picnic."

Yuusaku hurries to catch up after him, and stops short before Takeru stakes him with one of the roasting sticks. Carefully, Yuusaku manoeuvres past them and walk in line with him, hands in his pockets. As casually as he can, he asks, "Where did you hide those?"

Takeru guffaws. "Under my pillow."

Yuusaku feels his mouth begin to unhinge and drop to the floor. No—

"I'm kidding," Takeru says. "We have a mini fridge in there too, believe it or not, and I got these yesterday, not even last week. Relax. I've been saving them for a good roasting day, and ... well, today's the day."

Letting the air whoosh out of him, Yuusaku runs his fingers through his hair. The silence speaks for him, and Takeru begins to laugh and giggle like a child on Christmas. There's no laughter in Yuusaku's lungs, but he pushes the corner of his mouth up into a faint smile.

Together, they head out past the clustered cabins and to one of the many practicing grounds for demigods. This level of the camp is the most inhabited, and so there aren't as many open spaces as there are on the islands above and below them. But even here, there are private nooks. Over time, Spectre and Takeru have knocked them down, but one such place still remains: the edge of the island, where they can sit and hang their toes off the edge.

Takeru bounds over the edge of the island and settles down on the grass. He kicks off his shoes and wriggles his toes in the open air. Yuusaku sits down next to him and drops his feet over the edge too. His chest clenches as he remembers, not too long ago, sailing through the open airspace in Ema's car, but he tries to force the ache away. He can't think about that now.

He takes the hotdogs from Takeru and begins to thread them onto the pokers. Meanwhile, Takeru rolls his shoulders and flexes his hands. His magic rarely works how he imagines. He can make sparks fly out of his fingers, and occasionally bounce them from hand to hand; but if he wants to light something on fire, most of the time it's an accident.

"Maybe if you startle me, it'll light," Takeru says with a laugh. "Or I'll set the forest on fire."

"Take your time."

"Haha." Takeru snaps his fingers, and a single flame appears on his hand. He tips his hand forward to guide it out to the open air, where he'll then let it grow into a sizeable, floating fire. Only the flame stays on his fingertips.

Takeru groans. "Yuusaku."

"Keep trying."

The last thing Yuusaku wants to do is startle Takeru and watch the world burn. He's had enough panic for today.

Takeru shifts the flame to his other hand, and a small smile appears on his lips. But when he tips his hand forward, the flame stays glued to his hand.

"Yuusa—"

"Hey!"

Takeru screams once, and the flame blows up in his face. He screams again and throws the flame out into the air, where it burns like a firecracker for a moment until, at last, it settles in the air like the floating campfire it was meant to be.

Yuusaku turns around and glares at Spectre. He leans against one of the trees along the perimeter, arms crossed in front of his chest. Even in the dry sunset, he glows white. He snaps his fingers and petals drop around him. Then, jutting his chin out, he asks them, "So you two skipping dinner to roast weenies?"

Takeru's glare is fiercer than a tiger's. "What're you doing here?"

"Skipping dinner," Spectre says. He plops down next to them, crossing his legs neatly at his ankles and folding his pale hands in front of his lap. Spectre is taller than both of them, and though he's the same age, he looks older too. Spectre always says that it's because of his mastery of his demigod powers, but Yuusaku suspects it's all the creams and oils he uses on his skin.

"Skip dinner elsewhere," Takeru mutters. "This is for us."

Spectre curls his lip back. "I don't want whatever gross junk you two are eating."

"Then why are you here?" Yuusaku crosses his arms over his chest, and turns so he can see Spectre more clearly. If Spectre has showed up, that can only mean bad news. He's the worst omen to appear in the school.

"I wanted to ask you something."

Yuusaku's throat turns dry, and he swallows thickly to try and wet it. Spectre likes to pester them, but he never comes to them for information.

"I don't want to talk about it," Yuusaku says. He passes Takeru one of the sticks, and they hold their hotdogs out in the open flame.

Spectre snaps his fingers, and this time vines appear and snake along the grass like green serpents.

"I could burn those," Takeru says with a shrug. "Watch out."

Spectre sniffs and turns up his nose as if he's smelt something bad. "I'm not interested in what happened outside of Camp Vrains. I'm not like everyone else who's dying to know why a little girl never made it here; I can guess that some tragic event happened. Everyone else is just trying to believe the impossible."

"Then what?"

Yuusaku has never, ever liked Spectre's smile, and when he sees it, shivers spiral down his spine and he freezes on the spot. He's looking into a haunted face, bereft of all joy and hope.

"I want to know how you got out."

"How I ..." Yuusaku swallows. "I can't tell you."

"Did you tell your friend here?" He leans forward, balancing his elbows on his knees and peering round Takeru to see Yuusaku properly. "I bet you did."

Cold sweat drips down Yuusaku's back. He tries to hold his stick steady, but it bobs up and down, singing the ends of the hotdog. "I never saw where we left from," he lies. "You know they don't let you see where you're going."

"Y'know," Takeru adds, "because they don't want demigods running out of here, especially while kidnappers are loose."

"Kidnappers." Spectre's smiles widens, and Yuusaku’s stomach sinks to the ground. "So that's what happened to the girl."

"You—you said—"

Spectre snorts at Takeru. "I said there were theories, but no proof. But that's the tragic event that happened."

Takeru keeps on staring at Spectre like he's grown a third head, and his words coming rushing out between his lips: "You aren't serious, are you? For real? Someone got kidnapped and you want to sneak on our of here—for what? You're going to get kidnapped too!"

"Exactly."

They both freeze. Yuusaku feels his breath freeze in his aching lungs, but he can't swallow or breathe out. It burns like a frigid fire, and all he can do is wait for Spectre to speak again.

But Spectre sits silently next to them, legs still crossed at the ankles, hands once again folded in his lap. He looks like a porcelain doll with a twisted grin. All of his thin features make Yuusaku sick to his stomach. When at last he can speak, he can hardly get the word out.

"Why?"

"You that curious?" His grin widens, slashed across his ivory face.

"No!" Takeru spits the word out like bile. In front of them, the fire shoots up towards the heaven, and Takeru and Yuusaku yank their hotdogs back before they're incinerated. They're still burnt, but edible. Ish.

Spectre chuckles and leans back on his hands.

"Aren't you two already planning to head out?"

"No," Yuusaku says quickly, and he hopes Spectre doesn't catch the lie.

"That's a suicide mission," Takeru adds. "In case you haven't gotten it through to your head, there are bad people out there. People who want demigods. People who are  _ kidnapping  _ demigods."

"It's just one kid."

"Who says?"

He catches Spectre off-guard like a deer caught in the headlights.

"How do you know this is the first kid?" Yuusaku presses. "Or the last?"

"Because there would be a bigger news story." Spectre brushes it off, but Yuusaku presses on.

"What if kids have been kidnapped for a while, and Ema's never found out until now?"

He sees a glimmer in Spectre's eye, and Yuusaku swallows back his next words. Rather than melt away with fear, Spectre only seems to become more interested, leaning closer and closer to them. His breath mists out ahead of him, quick and fast, like a dragon blowing smoke.

"All the more reason to head out then," he says.

"Yeah, no thanks," Takeru says. He swings his stick around and brandishes it like a weapon between him and Spectre. "Now go away already. This is our spot."

"Suit yourself," Spectre says. He snaps his fingers, and this time flowers pop up around them like some lovey-dovey picnic performance. Takeru swallows back a growl, but his powers do the work for him: fire burns not only around them, charring the flowers into black dust, but shoots down the grass and towards Spectre's feet.

He sprouts a stump to extinguish the flame.

"Don't burn the camp down." And with that, he heads back into the forest. Yuusaku watches until he's certain he's left, and then he turns to the open air. He still has his hotdog on a stick, and he bites off a section that isn't as charred from Takeru's intense cooking. It still tastes like dry, overcooked meat.

"What. A. Jerk," Takeru growls, chomping into his own dinner. "Why'd he even come out here? Who—who actually wants to be kidnapped?"

Yuusaku shrugs. It was best not to ask that question, and only the teeniest part of his mind is curious. Of all the demigods at Camp Vrains, Spectre is by far the most unnerving person Yuusaku has ever met. He's cold and calculating; ruthless; polite but harsh; and above all, extremely unpredictable. For someone with the best control over his demigod powers, Yuusaku wouldn't be surprised if Spectre turned on them all.

"Like I hate the guy," Takeru continues, "but even I don't want to see him kidnapped."

He can agree with that.

But for the rest of the night, even long after they've retired to the camp, Yuusaku can't stop looking out the window and scanning the skyline for any flying objects. Would someone head off in search of the child? He wanted to, but what Takeru said was true: they wouldn't stand a chance out in Den City. Even Spectre with his special powers would be easy prey for one of those adults.

Or ...

What if one of those men came into Camp Vrains? It's never happened before, but then again neither has a failed rescue mission.

That night, Yuusaku sleeps upright with his pillow propped against the windowsill. Through the thicket of the trees, there's just enough skyline that he can see if someone flew over a part of the camp. He watches the dark sky until his eyelids droop closed and he fitfully falls asleep.


	4. FOUR: A Way Out

Yuusaku wakes up to sharp, stabbing pain in his cheek. He rolls to the side, but someone grabs his shoulders. His eyes snap open. Standing above him is Spectre—no, Spectre has straddled him down onto his bed. He sleeps in a bunk bed, so Spectre's crouched down too. He has his hand raised, not high but enough that Yuusaku sucks in a breath and twists to the side.

In the blink of an eye, Spectre fists his hand in the collar of Yuusaku's pyjama shirt.

"How could you?"

Chills run down Yuusaku's spine. Spectre always had a haunting voice, but his words sound nothing short of murderous. He half-expects Spectre to strangle him on the bed right here and now.

Yuusaku's eyes flicker to the side. Where are his half-siblings? He never speaks to them, and would never request their help, but everyone is gone. Yuusaku can't remember the last time his cabin was quiet; there was often someone hanging around the main space, or lounging in their bed eating bonbons. He can't even hear someone practicing physical combat outside of the cabin. All in the all, the camp seems too quiet.

He pulls against Spectre's tight grip, but to no avail. Albeit gangly, Spectre is strong.

"Why'd you tell him?" Spectre hisses. "Why would you tell  _ him  _ of all people?"

"Him?" Yuusaku swings a leg back and knees Spectre in the back. Spectre's face grows even paler, and his grip shifts from Yuusaku's collar down to the middle of his shirt. Yuusaku knees him once more. This time, Spectre's fingers spring out and fly to his back. Yuusaku wastes no time scrambling to his feet, pushing away the covers and running to the door. He stops with his hand on the handle, door halfway open.

"Where are you—"

_ Crack!  _ Vines sprout from the ground.

_ Too late,  _ thinks Yuusaku. He springs through the door and rolls to the ground. Dust and dirt fly up into the air; some even lands on his lips and open mouth. Coughing, he pulls himself to his feet. If he heads into the main campus, he'll only cause a commotion. So he darts to the side, down the length of the cabin and back into the forest. If Spectre really wants him, he can chase him through the forest until they both collapse of exhaustion. 

Behind him, the ground rumbles with the force of Spectre's fury. Branches crack and shatter over their heads, and entire trees fall to the ground. Yuusaku's karma powers keep him out of harm's way, but he still can't turn around and face the vile destruction.

"You running away?" Spectre calls out. "Like him? You going to the same place?"

Over the sound of snapping tree trunks, there's no way Yuusaku can ask Spectre to clarify what is even going on. Spectre himself seems in no position to be speaking too. He tears through the trees like they're made of paper, only to rebuild them a second later. He pursues Yuusaku with such strength that Yuusaku himself worries that he will be caught. He has no way of knowing. Too scared to turn around, he waits for the ground to give way beneath him.

The trees break away to the edge of the island, and Yuusaku dashes to the side. He's wide open out here, and he hears Spectre roar like a wild beast.

"Yuusaku, hey—oh gods, what happened—"

Takeru pops out from the forest too, about ten or so feet away from Yuusaku. Though he once looked calm and relaxed, his eyes have since widened to the size of small moons and his jaw hangs open on rusty hinges.

In the time it takes Yuusaku to run into Takeru, Spectre has caught up to him. Thick vines wrap around his legs and pull him and Takeru down to the ground. Yuusaku's cheek hits solid earth and he winces. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Takeru's features squeeze in pain. This is even worse.

Takeru spins around first, glaring up at Spectre. "What gives?"

The vines along Yuusaku's body crack with the force of his karma powers. However, before he can snap them clean off, more vines appear from the ground to pin him down. As gifted as his ability might be, his control over his powers is far weaker than Spectre, the most talented demigod in the entire camp.

Spectre gazes down at him with his thin lips pressed tight. He raises a clenched hand, and the vines around Yuusaku's arms and legs tighten.

"How did he get out?"

Yuusaku opens his mouth to ask who, because frankly he's been running through the camp for the past ten minutes without any clue of who this might be. Takeru beats him to it.

"Ryouken? You—you know about him?"

Kougami Ryouken, a child of Athena. Yuusaku's stomach twists into knots.

"Yes," Spectre grinds out, "and yesterday the two of you were talking about getting out and you said you wouldn't tell anyone, so then how come, last night, Ryouken  _ leaves?" _

Chills scurry down Yuusaku's back. He ... left? But how? Yuusaku never told anyone but Takeru who would have never told Ryouken. That information should have stayed with the two of them. But then how else would Ryouken find out?

"It's the news of the camp," Takeru says by way of explanation. He turns back to Spectre, and his eyes narrow to thin slits. "But that doesn't mean it's Yuusaku's fault. Ryouken probably just up and left on his own."

"Im _ possible."  _ Spectre's lips curl back, revealing sharp, pearly teeth. Every fiber in his body shakes, and he looks like a faulty projection rather than a real human.

The vines around his body tighten, and Yuusaku lets out a short grunt of pain. Magic bubbles under his skin, and the vines snap in two. He clenches his teeth. This is one of Spectre's weakest abilities, so in return Yuusaku's karma powers are at their minimum too. He wishes now more than ever that Takeru's fire powers would burn the vines to a crisp, but they only seem to work at the most inopportune of times. No matter how much Takeru glares at Spectre, the vines remained wrapped along their limbs.

"I never told him," Yuusaku says. "I wouldn't."

"We don't even talk to Ryouken," Takeru adds. "When's the last time you saw us have a genuine conversation with the guy. Seriously. He hates us, and I'm not too keen on him. The feelings are mutual. So ..."

"So what?" Spectre's long fingers curl into his palm, and he brings the hand down to his side. "What if he overheard you talking?"

"That's not our fault then."

Spectre sinks his teeth into his lip.

"If he eavesdropped, we wouldn't have known." Yuusaku waits for the vines to adjust round his arm, and then he lets his powers drop down like a weight on the world. With a snap, the vines around his and Takeru's limbs turn to dust, and he quickly pulls himself out of the way. Takeru scurries after him, and together they stand several paces back and out of Spectre's easy line of fire.

"Tch." Spectre twists his lips together. The angry spark within him has settled, at least for now. He toes the ground with his boot.

Yuusaku's eyes never leave Spectre. Even subdued, he can become rash and volatile. He's far too unpredictable to be left unattended.

"Besides," Takeru says, "the camp leaders are unsure whether Ryouken escaped ... or was kidnapped."

His ears prick at the words. Kidnapped? It hasn't even been two days since Yuusaku went on the failed Den City rescue mission, and his nerves are still shot from that tragic kidnapping. But as terrible as that event was, it was in the city, not at the camp. Could those lab-coated strangers have snuck into the camp so soon after their last sighting? Did they know all along how to get into the camp?

"You really think he was kidnapped?" Spectre snorts. "Ryouken's one of the smartest demigods in all of Camp Vrains—"

"But that doesn't explain why he would leave." Takeru raises a finger, and turns to face Yuusaku. "You don't know anything about that, right?"

Yuusaku shakes his head. A nagging suspicion in the back of his mind reminds him of his own insecurities with Camp Vrains, yet he's never considered running away from the camp, much less so soon after a kidnapping. What could Ryouken even be thinking?

"Are you  _ sure  _ he wasn't listening through the wall?"

"Positive." Yuusaku blurts the words out before he can wrestle them back. "If Ryouken was around, my ability would have activated."

"Exactly," Takeru says with a snap of his fingers. Flame burst around his feet, and he hurriedly stamps them out with the soles of his boots. "If you two are within ten feet of each other, your karma powers go berserk and you cause chaos for everyone, but especially for him. It would have been obvious that he was eavesdropping."

"So then he was ..." Yuusaku swallows. "How could anyone have gotten into the camp? And where is everyone else?"

Takeru points behind him, through the trees. "In the main square. There's no big announcement, but everyone's gathered around in case the camp leaders report anything. We all know something is wrong, but still Jin and Kusanagi are keeping it under wraps."

Figures. Just like with the first kidnapping, the camp leaders told no one about what had happened. It makes sense that they'd keep this situation under wraps too.

"How does that mean Ryouken was kidnapped?"

Yuusaku blinks. Turns his head. Spectre has his arms crossed and his lips pressed tight like this idea is still reasonable and 'on the table.'

"Because there's no other way out of the camp," Yuusaku says, sounding out each syllable on his tongue. The words feel heavier when he gets them out, and he swallows to moisten his dry palate. Is there another way out? And would Ryouken of all people know it? He is a teenage genius and a child of Athena. If anyone could figure out how to get out of the camp undetected, it would be a demigod like him.

"There isn't," Takeru says. "A way out of camp, I mean. Like they didn't built a secret passageway or have some secondary entrance used for deliveries. There's nothing like that ... right?"

Spectre raises a single digit into the damp morning air. "Exactly. There's only one way in and out of the camp, and only the leaders know of it ... well, the leaders and those few lucky students who've gone out to Link Vrains."

The hairs along Yuusaku's neck prickle with frustration. "As I said, I never told Ryouken—"

"But could he have seen you?"

Blink. "S-seen me?"

"Yeah," Spectre says, bouncing a shoulder up and down. "Like when you left to go to the city, or when you returned. The truck isn't invisible, so it would have been easy to spot it's path. Even an everyday citizen would have been able to see its general direction and then discern where it travelled to. Then ..." He clicks his heels together and leans back on one of the tall trees. "All he'd have to do is steal a vehicle and head out."

It almost makes too much sense. When Yuusaku had taken off, he had his eyes closed. He knows exactly where the exit is, not that he ever considered leaving—but on the ground, any demigod who paid close attention would have seen the hotdog van take off into the sky. There's no security device keeping students from reaching that area other than them simply not knowing where it is in the sky.

"Ah hah ..." Spectre's grin widens across his slim face.

"Oh shut it," Takeru mutters. "Yuusaku's not at fault and that's what matters. And besides, how could Ryouken have gotten up there?"

"Follow me."

His entire body goes rigid. "What?"

"Come on, I'll show you where they keep the spare vehicles."

Yuusaku doesn't move an inch. He's only ever seen the hotdog van and Ema's car; rumour has it she also has a bike. Is that what Ryouken took off in then?

Takeru swings a hand out to stop Yuusaku. Sparks erupt from his palms, and he shakes away the resulting embers. "How do you know where the vehicles are?" he asks. "That isn't just common knowledge or else Yuusaku and I would know about it too."

"It's common enough." Without another word, Spectre spins on his heel and heads into the forest. Not once does he turn back.

He itches to follow. Of all the demigods, Spectre seems the most likely to know something about what is going on in Camp Vrains, and the most likely to share such information too. He might not know exactly what transpired last night, but he has theories. And, as reluctant as Yuusaku is to admit it, he wants to know what happened too. He might dislike Ryouken and the awkward situations they come across, but after the kidnapping incident, he doesn't want to see anyone else go missing.

He brushes past Takeru's arm, careful not to touch the red, searing skin. Takeru shakes his arm off, and with his not-burning hand, reaches out to grab Yuusaku's wrist.

"You can't be serious—"

"I am." He's more certain of this than anything else.

"But still!" Takeru follows him through the forest, steps loud and clunky on the earthy floor. "I don't think we should get involved in something like this."

"Because it's Ryouken?" He can't help the wry smile on his lips.

"Because it's dangerous!" Takeru throws his hands up in the air, sighing loudly through his nose. "Because no matter who it is, there are people out there who are stronger than us. Stronger than Spectre. Stronger than all of us combined. And as much as I want to be a hero, I have ..."

"If you were in my shoes, you'd do the same thing." Yuusaku knows he would.

"That's why I'm telling you when I'm  _ not  _ in your shoes."

Yuusaku glances over his shoulder. Takeru walks two or three paces behind him, shoulders hunched up to his ear lobes. Hanging leaves and branches tickle his pale face; their dew collects on his damp t-shirt. He must have run right out of his bedroom and to the main centre to learn of the news, and then rushed through the camp to find Yuusaku.

"That's why I'm going to figure this out," Yuusaku says. "Because just like you, I won't sit back and watch this."

He chuckles at Takeru's next heavy sigh.

"This feels wrong, all right? Like we're making a big mistake."

It feels like they're walking into the belly of the beast.

They travel along the edge of the forest, around the cabins and past several outdoor training grounds and gyms. There's not a single stray demigod in sight, and the camp feels like an empty world. Normally, demigods would be wandering about the camp or practicing in one of their classes. But they must all still be waiting at the main square for further information.

Not wanting to walk close to Spectre, Yuusaku hangs back several feet. When they cross common paths or pass buildings, he holds his breath, expecting someone to pop out and ask him why he's not with the others. Are the teachers around, or are they at the square too?

"Here."

He—

Oh.

If he weren't looking for the building, he would have never seen it. Nothing about it should make it blend in: stone walls, slate roof, dirty windows that seem to suck in the meagre morning sunlight.. Most of the buildings in Camp Vrains are wooden, save for some of the cabins, and yet this building appears different from them all. It should have been a painful eyesore to Yuusaku if he walked around the camp, and he has ... but he's never seen this building before in his year of time at camp.

"Wow." Takeru's mouth hangs open, and he sucks in a breath. "How? How?! Has this really been here this entire time?"

"Probably." Spectre taps his hand on the wall, creating a dull thunk. Solid stone.

Yuusaku's eyes tip down to the floor. Did it materialise out of thin air? Can you only see this building in the morning, or perhaps in a trick of light? Is this building only visible to those who have been shown it?

Spectre knocks his hand along the wall, wandering down to a little wooden doorway tucked into the side of the building. On the main wall are new passageways and stairs, but no doorway. Yuusaku pulls a face, but he can't help the slight surprise that this building exists in Camp Vrains.

"How come we can't see it?" he asks.

Spectre's face splits in a wide grin. Just the question he wanted Yuusaku to ask, it appears. "You weren't looking for it."

"Really?" Takeru flicks up an eyebrow. "Be serious."

"I am. Ryouken found this on his first week here, and he showed it to me. There's no way it just popped out of nowhere one day, so it must have been around for a while. At the very least, it's been around longer than we've been here—"

"And still we've never seen it ..." Takeru breathes the last words out.

Carefully, Yuusaku presses his hand to the stone. Chipped rock pokes into the pads of his fingertips, and he pulls his hand back. He tries again. Spectre must be right; there's no way this building appeared out of thin air. It's been here this entire time.

"Come on in."

Spectre holds the wooden door open for them, swinging it side to side on its rusty hinges. Yuusaku glances over his shoulder to see if anyone is watching, but he heads through the doorway, followed by Takeru and then finally Ryouken. Behind them, the door latches closed with a sharp click, and for a moment they all stand in pure darkness.

"Want light?" Takeru asks.

"Not if we want the entire city to burn down," Spectre says. "There's a light ..."

_ Click. _

The room erupts in golden light, only ... smaller. While this building appeared quite mansion-esque from the outside, this single room is no larger than a cabin bathroom.  Directly in front of Yuusaku is the wall, so close that the tip of his nose scrapes the chipped cement. There are no windows, just two doors, and the lack of sunlight makes him claustrophobic even though he's never felt such a feeling before.

"In  _ here?"  _ Takeru asks.

"Another door." Spectre reaches around them and grabs the handle of the other door. Carefully, they shuffle through the doorway and into the next room. This one is much bigger, perhaps even comprising of the majority of the building. It has ceilings that reach higher than where the roof should have been, and walls that extend as far as Yuusaku can see. He wonders if magic has transformed this mysterious building into an industrial warehouse, or if the newness of this complex has simply surprised him. Inside the building are hundreds of vehicles: motorbikes and vans, but also a handful of small cars parked in one area, and a cluster of chained-up pedal bikes.

Yuusaku feels like he's stepped into another world.

Spectre takes off down one of the pathways. Yuusaku follows, only because Spectre looks like he has more of an idea of where they're going than either he or Takeru do. He stops before an empty parking stall; on either side of the space are D-Boards lying down on the ground.

"This must be the one Ryouken took," Spectre says, gnawing at his lip.

"How does this help us find him?" Takeru asks.

Spectre huffs out a sharp breath. "We go after him, of course."

Blood boils in Yuusaku's veins. His hands clench in tight fists, and for a moment he sees sharp red. But his words come out less antagonising than he imagined. "You led us here so we'd take you?"

"Aren't you all about justice, Fujiki Yuusaku?"

A knot of anxiety nudges his belly.

"You two could be heroes," Spectre says, tapping the board next to them. "We could all go—"

"You'd go with us?" Takeru begins to laugh, muffling the noise into one of his hands. "Hate to break it to ya, but you're not much of a team player, all right?"

Spectre raises his hands up. "Caught me."

"How come you want to go then?" Takeru asks.

"Reasons."

"If that isn't suspicious ..."

Worry tugs at his heart. Only he knows how to get out. Only he knows how to go to Den City and at least begin the search. The camp leaders must be working hard too, but they're number one priority is the safety of the demigods at Camp Vrains, not those that they've lost. They won't be able to mobilise in time.

"Who knows who'll disappear from the camp next," Spectre says as if he's commenting on the weather. "Could be one of us."

Yuusaku drives his heel down into the ground. "Enough. Fine. We'll go."

"We'll—" Takeru's eyebrows shoot into his head and he jolts forward, grabbing Yuusaku by his shoulder. He shakes him back and forth, until Yuusaku can peel himself away. Takeru's words are jsut as intense: "How can that be a good idea?"

"You'd do it too," Yuusaku says. "Besides, there are three reasons why we have to do this: one, only I know the way to Den City; two, the first kidnapping wasn't just a random event and this is now a serious problem; and three, whoever is kidnapping demigods knows how to get into the camp. We can't sit around and wait. We have to act."

Takeru opens his mouth to argue, yet all that comes out is a weak growl. He twists his head to the side, eyes narrowed at Spectre. His grin stretches all across his pale face.

"Does he have to come too?" Takeru says.

"If it weren't for me, you'd have no way of even getting  _ out  _ of camp."

"Correct." Yuusaku marches down the aisle, past rows upon rows of D-Boards. He stops at one of the small cars. "Can you hotwire this?"

"Keys are already in the ignition," Spectre says.

Sure enough, they are.

Yuusaku pats the top of the vehicle. "This one then. We're all going in the same car. No matter what, we can't separate from each other. That'll only put us in more danger."

"Got it," Takeru says.

"Aye aye," Spectre adds. "We leaving now?"

"Yes." His words come out clearer than his thoughts. "Yes," Yuusaku says again. "There's no time to waste: we have to save Ryouken.”


	5. FIVE: Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the missed chapter, but look, it's our first Ryouken POV chapter! :3 hope you enjoy!

Ryouken ducks his head as he slips through the thick night air. Everyone is asleep in the camp, and there are no security officers patrolling around to make sure the demigods are tucked safely into their beds. Never before has anyone broken out of the camp, or wanted to. This place is meant to be some safe haven for teens.

Yet it feels anything but safe. It's stifling being here with everyone else whose powers have gone amuck. It's painful trying to fit in. And most importantly, what kind of life can he ever hope to live down here?

He doesn't want to be a demigod.

In a way, he's thankful there's no security. He'll be the first demigod to ever run away from Camp Vrains. After he escapes, no one else will be able to leave. Security will be tightened and measures will be taken to prevent demigods from even wandering out of their beds at night. 

Up ahead, he sees the shadowy outcrop of a great, stone building. It's been here all this time, and he's certain he's the only one who knows this location. He taps his fingers to the cement walls. No magic to shield it from view, and no barriers surrounding it to keep demigods out. This building has been here all along, just a brisk walk off from the main camp, and no one has ever bothered to question why it's here.

He walks along the side of the building, rapping his fingers against the cement until he hears a hollow noise. He tucks his fingers into the crevice and pulls. A panel pulls away from the wall to reveal a passageway. Despite the enormous size of the building, the passage is barely wider than his shoulders, and he has to shimmy to the side to get down the passage. It feels like crawling through a straw.

At the end of the tunnel, he pops out in a room that must encompass the entirety of the building. It even looks  _ bigger.  _ The ceilings stretch so high that he can't see the beams along the roof, and the walls even extend into the shadows. He has a single flashlight with him, and its beam is swallowed a few feet ahead by the darkness.

_ Click. _

The lights flicker on and the entire room glows. There must be at least a hundred vehicles here—no, a thousand vehicles of a hundred different makes. He hurries along the walkways, past cars and flying motorbikes. He needs something small, inconspicuous. Something that he can stow away when he lands on the ground.

A D-Board.

They lay flat on the ground in several parking stalls. Each one has a slightly different build, and they're all different colours. He's ridden one before in one of his classes, but he's never learnt if particular designs are faster or more fuel efficient. But he supposes a slimmer board would work.

As quietly as he can, he drags the board out of its stall. The ceiling looks high enough that he shouldn't bonk his head if he takes it for a spin in here, and so he mounts the board, spreading his legs and bending his knees. This is no different than surfing, or skateboarding. He just needs to balance—

The board shoots out from under him, arcing up into the air.

Ryouken lands on the ground with a sharp splat.

"Fuck," he mutters, rubbing at the back of his head. How did he even start this board in the first place? He never gave it any orders, or pressed any buttons.

His eyes flicker to the side. Yuusaku. If something goes wrong, it must be because of Yuusaku. He could be nearby. Ryouken presses his ear to the wall, but even if the concrete is thin, he can only hear his raspy breath. He's not nervous, or scared ... but if he was caught, he'd never be able to leave this place again. He'd never return to Den City.

He rushes back to the board that has now landed on the ground and scoops it up. He drags it back to the doorway, but when he tries to fit it through the narrow passageway, he can't push it through. No matter which way he twists or turns it, the board catches one way or another on the walls.

The roof then? When he gazes upwards, he can't even begin to see it. He'd give himself a concussion if he shot up there and banged his head on the ceiling, but wherever else he looks, he only sees concrete. There must be another way out of here though—how else would all these cars leave?

He mounts it once more, this time holding his arms out in front of him to balance. The board shifts under his weight, and he holds his breath. Slowly, he clicks his heel behind him to start the engine. The engine is silent, yet the board rises several inches into the air. He adjusts his legs to better position himself, and then bends his knees. The D-Board rises up into the air. He guides it up towards the ceiling in a steady, upwards spiral. His eyes flick to each corner of the building, searching for any ceiling beams or light fixtures, or anything that he could hit that would knock him to the ground.

But he keeps on rising. No matter how large the building appeared from the outside, Ryouken doubts it could be this tall inside, not without some strong perception-warping magic. Yet his head never hits the ceiling.

Carefully, he leans over the side of the board. It wobbles beneath his feet, its nose dipping towards the ground. Beneath him, Ryouken sees a glitter of small lights, and a greyish patch on the ground.

The building.

"No roof," he says.

He lifts his head up to the skyline. He's at least a hundred feet above Camp Vrains, higher than the buildings and trees. If he looks up, he can see the floor of the next island, one of the practice grounds the camp leaders use for various training demigods' abilities. No one will be up there.

He winds the board down, leading it across the tops of the trees. Without a single demigod or camp leader out tonight, he can fly through the skies with ease. First, he searches for the river that snakes through the camp. Though it extends in both directions, he follows the current past more training grounds and out to the edge of the island. The first time he saw the edge, back when he was a new camp attendee, he lost his breath. The land drops off suddenly as if these islands were cookie-cut from a large block of earth—and the water snaking through the island drops over the edge and falls into the large abyss below. There are more islands beneath them, but many thousands of feet below is uncharted territory. No demigods are allowed to venture down there, and while there are no camp leaders keeping tabs on who is exiting off these islands, there is a high-security system down there to stop anyone trying to head out of the camp.

Somehow, that system doesn't exist up above. 

He shoots off the side of the island and through the sky. The air tastes cleaner and colder out here, as if fewer humans have breathed it. Most demigods can only fly during training time, and even then they rarely venture off the island. Being out here, away from the other demigods, brings a smile to his face. He's always wanted to live alone, away from others. Maybe on a cliff too, or at least somewhere with a beautiful view.

The higher he ventures, the cleaner the air becomes. It's paradise up here. Beautiful, unblemished paradise.  He breathes a sigh of relief, and takes his next breath. It sits in his lungs, cool and refreshing. He doesn't have to feel like he's breathing through a straw, or that there are stones in his lungs. The world isn't pushing down on him and punishing him for being born. He doesn't feel like he's failed.

Once more, he peers over the edge of his D-Board.

Up here, Yuusaku's powers can't get him.

The D-Board spurs to life and shoots him through the sky, up and to the yellow cut-out of the sun. Ryouken knows better now. He saw Yuusaku leave and watched him return. He knows where he has to go. As he approaches the yellow sun, he rises up so that he can land on the platform. The board disappears when it touches solid ground, and he lands on his feet. Pins and needles shoot through the soles of his feet; he stretches out a hand to steady himself on the wall.

The yellow sun is, in fact, not a sun. It's a barrier that keeps demigods in Camp Vrains, and any evil out. There is a little panel by his hand with various keycode combinations—not just a keypad with numbers, but also a fingerprint- and retina scanner, and a voice recognition program.

_ Easy,  _ Ryouken thinks. He's hacked into various computers and software around the camp; this is no different. In less than a minute, the yellow barrier fizzles away. His board has transformed into a small, silver bracelet hooked around his wrist. Somehow, he must be able to turn it back into a board, but he'll figure it out another time.

Before he leaves, he checks over his shoulder. No one has followed him. No one will catch him.

He lets out a breath and steps through the corridor. Nothing happens. No alarms go off. No weapons turn on him and force him back into the camp. The camp leaders probably never thought any demigod would want to leave the camp. He must be the first demigod out there to ever want to run away. But he won't be the last. He knows it. This camp is a prison for demigods, and even if he doesn't save everyone, he'll save himself.

He taps his bracelet with his fingers, and the D-Board re-materialises before him. He mounts it and shoots off down the corridor. The road stretches as far as he can see. In fact, all he sees is darkness for several minutes, until the tunnel spits him out onto the water.

Water.

He blinks his eyes.

He's landed out in the middle of the sea. It's nighttime in Den City, and the only lights in the world are the artificial city lights in the distance, and the stars in the water. He stands on an invisible path floating above the water; beneath his feet, the sea churns gently and laps at the path. If he dips his foot down to the side, he can feel the icy water. He tastes salt on his lips. Wind tugs at his hair.

"I made it.” He jumps at the sound of his own voice, but then he says it again, and again. No one will hear him out here. No one will come looking for him. Unlike Takeru or Spectre, he has no visible powers. No one will suspect he's a demigod, so he can wander freely through this world without having to look over his shoulder. Even if the camp leaders come after him, he'll be long gone.

The board bucks forward, and he heads down the invisible path. Seawater laps at the transparent panels, catching on the corner of his board. He shivers as a strong breeze slips down his jacket; he packed a backpack of clothes and food in case he got lost, but he forget to bring layers. He wonders what day it is out here, or month. It's been over a year since he was brought to Camp Vrains, and there are no calendars down there. Timeless torture, he calls it. 

Out here, the world seems still too. But unlike Camp Vrains, he doesn't need to know what time it is, at least not for a while. The world is perfect out here. The sea has swallowed the stars, and the moon has lit up the world.

He reaches the boardwalk along the ocean and guides his D-Board up onto the pathway. During the day, this area must be quite busy; but at night, you could hear a pin drop on the road. He shuts off his D-Board, stowing it back into the bracelet. Even though Den City is quite the advanced city, it's not the sort of place with flying cars. Not quite yet.

He heads down the first road he sees. He lived here before, back when he was a child. But he doesn't remember his old house, or where he went to school. The streets all have new names, and places where he expects there to be a convenience store or a park are replaced will new condo buildings or parking lots. Worry etches at the corner of his mind. He knows this is Den City—Camp Vrains is only attached to this place—but it's impossible to imagine the city could change so much in just a year.

_ Has it only been a year?  _ he wonders. Maybe it's been more. He never celebrated his birthday down there, and while time passed and he woke up and fell asleep, there were no dates to tell him  _ how much  _ time passed since he first came down. For all he knows, he could have been here for half his life.

No.

He's not that old.

But the world still looks mysteriously wrong. He wanders down various side streets and paths snaking through the city. As a child of Athena, he has heightened intelligence and wisdom. He's normally keen with directions, but today he feels like he woke up in someone else's body.

Nonetheless, he keeps wandering. He counts on his fingers as he walks. First, he needs to find a place to live. A hotel, maybe. He needs to search for a job too. Or he needs to get out of Den City entirely. He can't return to his family, or to his school, but he needs to be somewhere where no one will recognise him.

He turns round a corner and nearly bumps into a person. At this hour, he can't imagine what someone is doing up, but he mutters a quick, "'Scuse me," and weaves past them. Only when the figure has turned round a corner does the flash of white register in his mind.

White.

The camp leaders talked about people in white. It shouldn't be suspicious that someone is wearing white, but it is, like someone waved a warning flag in his face. He peeks over his shoulder, but the stranger has disappeared. Another figure has appeared though—a new stranger, again wearing the same lab coat. The fabric rustles against their heels, creating an antsy fluttering noise that sets his teeth on edge.

He ducks his head down and quickens his pace. No one should be following him. There's nothing suspicious about him. But the stranger seems to be pursuing him. No matter which way he turns, left or right, the stranger is there. What would seem more suspicious: approaching them and asking what their business is, or running away and hoping they can't follow? They shouldn't be able to tell he's a demigod; unlike Spectre or Takeru, he has no visible abilities, just superhuman intellect.

The stranger flashes out of his vision.

Ryouken runs. He tears first down an alleyway, then the next. He makes his movements as unpredictable as he can be. His feet smack down on the pavement, so he kicks rocks as well, scattering the sound all across the city. If they're tracking him by sound alone, it'll be impossible to tell exactly where he's heading. He strips off his light jacket too—they'll be looking for him.

Once or twice, he looks over his shoulder. There's no one behind him, but maybe they're spread out and surrounded him.

"Hey, hold on a minute, do I know—"

He whirls around. Standing in the empty alley is a man wearing a long white lab coat zipped up to his neck. He has a slim face and small, beady eyes that remind him of Spectre. Most impressive is the swamp-green hair flopped down on the crown of his head. Is this someone that Yuusaku met? Is this person part of the aggressors who chased after the camp leaders?

"Hey." The man raises his hand, spreading his fingers wide. No weapons. But every part of him exudes danger. Ryouken has never felt so frightened before, and he sinks his teeth into his lip. His eyes dart from side to side. The only exit is behind him, but he suspects there's someone waiting around the corner to tackle him.

"I think you have the wrong person," Ryouken says. "I was just heading home."

"You looked familiar," the stranger says. "And you dropped this." He holds up the dirty hoodie and squeezes the muddy water from its sleeves. "I wanted to return it to you."

Ryouken doesn't move. If he comes closer, he'll be attacked. He has no clue if these people are demigods too, or if they have concealed weapons. He'll only be more suspicious if he doesn't take the jacket, or if he runs. But staying here only puts him in more danger too.

"That's not mine," he says instead. "As I said, I think you have the wrong person."

The stranger smiles, no teeth and thin, translucent lips. "My bad."

"I'll be going now," Ryouken says. He purposefully turns his back on the stranger. His ears strange for any sudden movements as he walks down the empty alley. Someone must be waiting for him somewhere, ready to ambush him. He doesn't hear the other stranger move, or to try to call him back. As he walks, he flicks his gaze from side to side. Anything to jump up on, any narrow passage.

Bingo.

In one fluid motion, he leaps onto the metal trash bin and pulls himself up to the wall. Then he jumps again, this time catching himself on the metal grate of a staircase jammed into the side of a building. It creaks and groans with his weight, and slick dirt coats his fingertips. He dangles from the ledge, kicking his feet back and forth.

Beneath him, the strangers have mobilised. They both kick off from the ground, heading right to the garbage bin.

Ryouken pulls his arms up, but they buckle under his weight.

"Shit," he mutters, bracing his muscles once more.

He looks over his shoulder again. Shit, they're even closer—

The bracelet.

The D-Board.

He kicks his legs forward, swinging back and forth on his slippery hands. As soon as he begins to arc back and forth like a pendulum, he lets go, slapping a hand down on the bracelet. The D-Board materialises right beneath his feet, catching him before he tumbles to the ground. Ryouken flattens himself to it. With no time to lose, he kicks off from the ground, propelling down the alleyway and out into the main road.

This time, he doesn't look back.

While the paths in Camp Vrains were open, the city is densely packed, with narrow alleyways and suspended bridges tying various complexes together. Ryouken spins like a torpedo through the air, narrowly avoiding several stone outcroppings. If he travels higher, he's out of physical harm's way, but he'll be the easiest target to spot in the open air; thus, he flies closer to the ground, pretending he's the first flying car in Den City.

He doesn't have to worry about much traffic, but instead about how the city seems intent on knocking him off his board.

His mind whirls with adrenaline. He needs to get to safety. He needs to get out of the city. He can't return to Camp Vrains, not after sneaking away ... but where else can he go? He thought he had a plan, but now he's on the loose.

A bright, blinding spotlight shines in his face.

His blood freezes.

The stranger—he's on a D-Board. It looks identical to Ryouken's, the same make and model. Only he drives it like a rocket engineer.

Ryouken dives down into the city. He's been caught, he's trapped, there's no way out. He weaves through the city, faster and faster, ducking through alleys. As he rounds a corner, he clips it too close. He  _ hears  _ the scrape of his skin. Feels the blood pool down his sleeve. But he doesn't feel the pain. No, there's too much blood in his ears, and if he feels anything, it's the choked feeling of his heart in his throat.

At the first opening he sees, he dives forward.

Then he sees light. Blinding, painful light followed by the screech of tires, the pained human scream, the snap of bones. He doesn't remember what he sees next, what he feels next, what he does next.

His eyes snap closed as he lands face-down on the pavement.


	6. SIX: Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey-o! sorry it's been a while - life and all that ^^;; but i've got a nice chapter backlog so hopefully postings can be a bit more regular ^^

Every bone in Yuusaku's body tells him he's making the wrong choice. He should have escaped on his own, never sought out Takeru or allowed him  _ and  _ Spectre to tag along. But they all fit inside the car, crammed into the front seat. They forgot to get a vehicle with a back seat, and though Takeru has insisted many times that they should put Spectre in the trunk and see if he can hold his breath through the flight, Yuusaku doesn't want a single injury to occur. This mission is already dangerous enough without someone having to go to the hospital.

The top of the warehouse is, in fact, open; no roof to shield the vehicles from rain or snow. They break out into the clear, open sky. As it's still early in the morning, there are duelists wandering around the camp and birds fluttering in the sky. Yuusaku slams his heel down on the gas pedal and the car rockets through the air. Both Takeru and Spectre tumble forward, using that hands to catch themselves on the dashboard.

"Yuusaku!" Takeru gasps.

"Only way," he says. "We're going to get caught."

Spectre glances behind them. In his side mirror, Yuusaku can see the quickly diminishing view of Camp Vrains. Only camp leaders would be riding on D-Boards or vehicles right now, and no doubt someone has sighted the flying car. There is no way to hide themselves in the open air; they have to hurry.

"Spectre, look for the river down below. Where is it?"

Spectre leans over the side of the vehicle. "To the left."

"And which way is the water travelling?"

"Why?"

"Follow the river. That's the way to the secret door out of the camp."

He leans closer. Even with just a slight shift in weight, the car tips to the side. Yuusaku tightens his grip round the steering wheel and guides the car through the air. He keeps climbing up higher into the clouds; even if they need to search for something on the ground, they need to put as much distance between them and the camp, just in case the camp leaders come after them.

"That way," Spectre says at last. "Towards the training grounds."

"Got it."

Yuusaku slams onto the gas once more. He pulls the steering wheel up to his chest as the car climbs through the clouds. He searches the walls for the sun—the single clue that they're headed in the right direction. He has no one on his tail, but whenever he glances in his mirrors, his heart catches in his throat. They could get caught. This would be it for them.

"That it?" Spectre asks.

Takeru squints his eyes. "What? I can't see it."

Yuusaku nods his head. Painted onto one of the walls is a single, glowing sun. It isn't even properly painted, but it looks like a children's drawing. As they approach, the paint peels away into the electric wires of the gate. If Ryouken slipped through earlier, he must not have fully disabled the single security system. Fortunately, Yuusaku is as much of a hacker as he is.

He parks the car down on the ledge and hops out of the seat. Takeru and Spectre motion to follow him, but he swats a hand behind him. It'll take him less than a minute to disable the security system. If that doesn't alert the camp leaders, this certainly will, but he'll be long gone—

"Error," the computer says. "Error."

"What?" He slams a fist down on the message board. Quickly, he types the encryption again, hands shaking. This is the right combination. This is how he's bypassed security at Camp Vrains before. But once more, the red, taunting error screen appears.

"Yuusaku," Takeru says, dragging out his name. His eyes have gone as wide as planets.

"Yeah, you need to hurry up," Spectre says. "You've got company."

"I'm trying," Yuusaku says. "The security system—Ryouken probably locked us all out."

"Then what about another secret passage?" Spectre says. "There must be another way in and out."

"One way. It's the only way I know of, at least." Yuusaku's teeth sink into his lip. If they had more time, he'd circle around the camp for other passages. This can't possibly be the only way in and out of Camp Vrains; no programmer would build a world that could trap everyone in it. But they have no time to wander around the camp now. In the distance are two small, black dots—Kusanagi and Ema on D-Boards, he suspects.

"We need to go," Takeru says again.

"I'm trying," Yuusaku snaps, and then freezes. "Takeru, your powers. Activate them."

"What?" His eyes have grown even wider, and the single word wobbles on his tongue.

"We'll take down the barrier manually."

"You think that'll work? Here, let me just—"

Yuusaku shoots a hand forward to block Spectre, but at the same time, Takeru slaps a hand forward. Fire. There's fire on his hands. They've meshed their hands together in some sort of weird cheer, and as soon as their fingers connect, a fireball bursts from their palms and straight through the barrier, melting back the electric lines. Yuusaku hisses from the heat, yet he has no time to fret. The opening is here.

He leaps back into the car and slams on the gas. Their flying car shoots through the entryway which closes just as the tail of the car passes through. Around them, the cavern gives a thunderous shake, like they've just been swallowed into a great beast. There isn't a single light in this entire passageway, and so Takeru's hands, still sparked from his powers, give off a glow as bright as a campfire.

In the tunnel, the silence stretches around them, so thin that they can hear each other's laboured breaths.

Then:

"We did it!" Takeru cheers, throwing his flaming hands up. Sparks rain down on their heads, and Yuusaku pats them with one hand as he drives with the other. They shouldn't be celebrating yet, but they have made it through the first obstacle.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees red blood.

"Hey—"

"Good one," Spectre says with a weak laugh. He holds out his hand, red and blistering from being caught in Takeru's blast. Yuusaku's own powers prevented him from receiving any damage, and amplified the fire blast. But Spectre, as gifted as he is with his own powers, was caught in the crossfire. Angry burns cover his entire hand, peeling away his flesh. One of his fingernails is even missing.

Takeru swallows thickly, face green. "Oh—oh geez—"

"It's fine," Spectre says. "Little scrapes never hurt anyone—"

"We need to go to the hospital."

"We don't—"

"We do," Yuusaku says. His throat clenches the more he sees Spectre's burnt hand. It's not Takeru's fault, it truly isn't, but the escape can't start out with an infected wound leading to death. It can't. Already, Yuusaku feels the panic rising up in him. He feels like a glass beginning to break under stress. The others can't see it—according to Takeru, he has resting bitch face—but he feels like he could break at any second.

Something in his voice must have alerted them, because neither of his passengers speak up. Takeru sinks back into his seat, staring down at his own hands. Spectre tucks his bleeding hand between his legs; blood soaks into his white pants legs.

"Staunch the bleeding," he says. "Squeeze your wrist so that less blood flows, and—and Takeru, find something for him to wrap his hand in."

His fingers drum on the steering wheel. Patient, patient. He can't stop driving, can't turn back. They have to make it through the tunnel.

"H-how about a jacket—"

"Good enough," Spectre says. He grabs the jacket and ties it over his hand. "Your belt, Takeru. Your belt too." Even he sounds panicked. His words jumble together, whether from stress or the injury Yuusaku doesn't know. They all took minor first aid when they came to the camp, so they know how to treat small wounds. But this? This is serious.

The car breaks through the tunnel and drops down onto the invisible path stretching along Stardust Road. When he first came out here, the sight mesmerised him, and he could have spent all day at the camp entrance watching the stars fall into the sea. Now, he cruises along the path, eyes ahead of him. The stars disappear as quickly as they appear, and the city buildings become taller and grander.

"That's it?" Takeru gasps.

Yuusaku swallows thickly.

"How're you going to find Ryouken in there?" Spectre asks. He lets out a sharp yelp as Takeru tightens the belt around his lower arm.

"Not now," Yuusaku says. He can't think about Ryouken right now, not after this.

"A-are we leaving Spectre there?" Takeru asks. "At the hospital."

Spectre lets out a sharp huff. He winces when he jostles his hand, and Takeru quickly adjust the jacket so that it covers the bleeding. With just a quick glance, Yuusaku sees that the blood has already seeped through the fabric. Spectre won't pass out just yet, but he needs urgent care.

"Was that your plan all along?"

"What?"

"Your plan," Spectre repeats. "Lock me up so you two can play heroes—"

"We're not leaving you," Yuusaku says. He bites his lip so hard he draws blood, and he sucks on it before either of them see. "We can't."

Takeru raises an eyebrow. "We ... can't?"

"They kidnappers’ll know he's a demigod. If someone kidnapped Ryouken, who's to say they don't have info on all the other demigods at Camp Vrains. If they saw Spectre in the hospital—"

"Wait." Spectre shoots forward, snapping his fingers once. "Didn't you say that those kidnappers wear white lab coats? Like doctors? Wouldn't they work at the hospital?"

His blood freezes in his veins. Is there no place safe? If they were all well, they could infiltrate the hospital with fewer worries. But admitting Spectre as a patient to a place that might know he's a demigod only places him, and them all, in greater danger. It would be like walking into a trap.

"I can see the face you're making," Spectre says,"but hear me out. Use me as bait."

Takeru chokes. "You—you want to be  _ bait?  _ Are you asking for the sweet release of death?" He grabs Spectre by the shoulder, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. Yuusaku reaches over and slaps his hands away before he hurts Spectre even further. The last thing they need is for both of them to end up in the emergency wing.

"If I'm bait, I'll get in close with the doctors," Spectre says. "They'll figure out I'm a demigod, if they don't already know that in advance, and then I'll find out where Ryouken is. You two can follow after me."

"No." Yuusaku clenches the steering wheel in his sweaty hands. "No way."

"It's the first good option I've heard."

"It's the  _ only  _ option you've heard," Yuusaku corrects. "But no, we're not taunting them out with you. We'll ... we'll think of something when we get ..." But the rest of his words melt away as he yanks the car up over the boardwalk and drops it down onto the road. Tires screech on the pavement as he takes the vehicles onto the first path into the city.

"Do you even know where you're going?" Takeru asks.

"Here." Spectre kicks open the dash box with his foot. Dozens of papers and leaflets tumble out onto his and Takeru's feet. Yuusaku glances down at them, but keeps one eye peeled to the road. He checks his mirrors over and over again for any sign of the camp leaders pursuing them, but thankfully they're at least out of that danger.

The rustle of papers draws him back to the current anxiety: being lost. Spectre and Takeru each take a side of the map and spread it out so it covers half of the windshield. At once, Takeru looks lost and confused, but Spectre shakes a corner of the paper.

"Found it."

"Already?" Takeru asks.

"Next left," Spectre says first. "Then a right two roads down." He sounds out of breath—is he about to pass out? As much as Yuusaku remembers from first aid, he doesn't know how long it takes for someone to pass out from loss of blood? Should he be more worried?

He follows the instructions wordlessly, drumming his hands on the steering wheel. His mind spins in circles. What next? What to do? Once they get to the emergency ward, they might still be in danger. What if the camp leaders come searching for them? Will they look here?

"Yuusaku, you missed the turn—"

He cranks the wheel to the side, cutting into a hairpin turn into the opposing lane. He doubles back and takes the turn, zipping down the road, through another street, and then to the hospital. There are signs all around him saying 'Emergency' and 'Long-term Parking,' but Yuusaku pulls into the first stall he sees and yanks Spectre out of his seat.

He nearly vomits.

Blood has soaked through the entire sweatshirt, and the mess of hand and jacket feels as heavy as a water-logged towel. Spectre himself is pale and shaky. He must be trying—yet failing—to keep up a convincing, all-is-well face. He still looks like shit.

Takeru hops out of the car and grabs Spectre's other shoulder.

The next events feel like a blur to Yuusaku. One minute they're in triage, then the waiting room, then another room. They talk to person after person who say medical jargon after medical jargon. No one passes out, or vomits, or dies, but it feels even more intense than the entire drive here. Yuusaku can't keep up with what they're saying. But eventually, they get Spectre into a bed of sorts and staunch the bleeding.

"... is there anything else I can get for you?" the nurse asks.

Yuusaku blinks. "Hm?"

"Anything else?" she repeats. "The doctor should be with you in an hour or two."

"It's fine ..." He waves her off, and she disappears through the door and into the next room. He sinks tiredly back into the chair. How long has he been up for? How long has he been out of Camp Vrains? It feels like all day. Next to him, Takeru looks equally exhausted, head tilted back over the chair. Spectre looks the most energised, even with his hand bandaged up like a mummy. It's a temporary dressing until the doctor sees him.

"Well?" Spectre says.

"What?" Takeru grounds out. "Just what?"

"Go find Ryouken."

"That's really not a concern right now," Takeru says. "If you haven't already noticed, we're—"

"In the hospital. Ryouken could be here, or the doctors could be. Who knows. Yuusaku, you remember their faces."

He does. If he closes his eyes, he can see the vague shapes of their haunted expressions. He doesn't remember every detail—he's repressed some of those memories—but he remembers enough that, if he passed one of them in the hallway, he'd spot them as a kidnapper.

"Go look."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of white. White lab coats. If he squints, they look familiar to the outfits the kidnappers were wearing. Who knows if those lab coats were a disguise or not, but it's worth a shot wandering around. However ...

"Stay here," he says to Takeru.

"Wha—no way, I'm not leaving you alone—"

"I can hold my own," he says. "They're more likely to go after Spectre than me. Besides, if they attack me, my karma will react. You and Spectre need to stay together. Let me know if something goes wrong."

Takeru opens his mouth, ready to shout another retort, but Spectre cuts him off.

"Makes sense," he says. "I'm not helpless with this injury, but between the three of us, Takeru is the most likely to be kidnapped—"

"Hey, that's not what Yuusaku meant—"

"—so I'll stay with him. You go look for Ryouken."

Yuusaku blinks. He expected Spectre to retort too. But he doesn't have time to dwell on his odd words or suspicious smile. With a quick nod, Yuusaku ducks out of the room and heads down the hallway. He's still in the emergency ward, but close to the elevator. There are no security panels he needs to hack into, or cameras he has to avoid; he has full access to this entire building, and unless the kidnappers are watching him, to the general populace he's nothing more than a concerned friend visiting someone in the hospital. He blends right in.

He heads to the elevator and scans the panels. He remembers nothing about the kidnappers other than their uniforms, but since they were going after children, the first place he checks is the pediatric ward. The ride up the elevator makes his skin crawl, and when the doors open, he feels like he's stepping into uncharted territory. He is.

He pauses at the entryway. Can he truly go in there? Is he walking into a trap?

Swallow. Breathe.

He glances around the open-plan ward. There's an office at the centre, and a pathway circling round the desks. Bright, colourful animals are painted onto the walls. There's a small play area with books and puzzles and fuzzy mats, and in one corner are wheelable televisions and game stations. Rooms are all located on the exterior; most of the doors are open, but he sees none of the patients or nurses inside.

"Hello, can I help you?"

Would the little girl be in here, he wonders.

"Hello?"

He jumps back as someone waves their hand in his face—a nurse with a bright smile and blue-and-green scrubs.

"Hey," he says, "sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Are you looking for someone?"

"Ah ... yes ..." He tells the nurse the name of the lost child. This nurse looks friendly, nothing like the brooding and suspicious figures he saw that night. Plus, maybe the child was rescued. Maybe she returned.

The nurse frowns. "There's no patient by that name. Perhaps she was discharged?"

Nope. She wasn't here.

Yuusaku shakes his head, and mutters out, "Yeah, maybe." He quickly turns on his heel and heads back into the hallway. He jams his finger into the elevator button. Hurry up. Quicker. Every minute that goes by feels like another minute that he could lose the child, or Ryouken, or anyone else.

In the background, he hears a slight murmur: the noise from the TV. The local news station has caught a story about a recent traffic accident involving a truck and a skateboarder.

Skateboard?

On the screen is an image of the D-Board, an advanced piece of technology the likes of which Den City residents have never seen. The reporters hold the board next to them, twisting it side to side. There are no facial shots of the victim, but Yuusaku hears the description: white hair, blue eyes.

Ryouken.

"... the skateboarding victim was caught in a head-on collision with a truck early this morning. Eyewitness news tells us that the teenager went through a nearby alleyway and onto the road where he was then hit by a passing truck. The teenager is in critical condition and was transported to Den City South Hospital by paramedics."

Yuusaku blinks. Hospital? But then where is ...

He jams the elevator button once more. He can't stay still for the entire ride down, fingers itching at his jeans. When the doors open, he rushes to Spectre's room and rounds the corner. Both Takeru and Spectre look caught up in some heated conversation, but they turn to Yuusaku.

"Hey, what—"

"Spectre, what hospital are we in?"

"Huh?"

"The name of this hospital, what is it?"

"I don't know, it was the first one I saw. Takeru, map."

Takeru smacks his hands over his jeans. "I thought I gave it to you."

Yuusaku huffs and spins round on his heel. He marches over to the first desk he sees and asks, "What hospital is this?"

The nurse stares at him like he's grown a second head. "Den City North Hospital—"

He marches back into the room and slams a hand down on the doorframe. "We're at the wrong hospital."

"What?"

"The wrong hospital. On the news—on the television upstairs there was a news report about Ryouken. He was caught in an accident of sorts, maybe because of the kidnappers, but apparently he went to the southern hospital."

One of Spectre's thin, white eyebrows rise up into his hairline. "And you think that's true? What if the kidnappers caught him?"

"He must have fallen off their D-Board!" Takeru says, clapping his hands together. "They probably tried to carry him on the board, but he rolled off and then fell into traffic."

"Exactly." His fingers drum along the doorframe, panicked and antsy. "So we have to go. Now."

Takeru glances to Spectre, hand still bandaged up. "But what about—"

"No time," Spectre says, cutting him off. "If Ryouken's in the other hospital, we have to find him."

Without another word, Yuusaku spins on his heel and takes off down the hallway. Spectre follows after him, balling his bandaged hand up with Takeru's sweater to hide the injury. No one calls them back, and Yuusaku counts it as a silent blessing. He hurries back to their silver car and they quickly pile into. His heart hammers in his chest; he feels like he's part of an adventure movie.

From the backseat comes Takeru's soft voice: "Won't the kidnappers be after him too?"

Yuusaku slams his foot down on the gas pedal. The engine roars to life like a great beast. "Not if we can get there first."


	7. SEVEN: Clinic

He wakes up feeling like got run over by a semi-truck racing down the highway. Or a plane that's engines charred him alive. Or a lion that ate him alive. He feels terrible from his head to his toes, and as soon as his eyes open, he snaps them closed. The world is cold, cruel, and unforgiving. The world hates him. And he hates the world. But all too soon, irritation chips at his mind. He can't lie here all day, sulking on this bed. He can't even remember lying down on a bed, or going to his bedroom. His mind feels fuzzy; it aches to draw out a single, concrete memory about how he came here. In the mornings, he often wakes up refreshed even if he had a bad night of sleep. But he feels the weight of the world pressing down on his chest, and the feeling settles uneasily in his stomach.

Something is wrong here.

He snaps his eyes opens and bolts up from the bed. He's in a cot of sorts, with soft linen sheets pooled at his legs. The room is soft, creamy wallpaper. In one corner of the room sits a small table on which rests a porcelain vase of spring tulips.

He narrows his eyes. This is no room he recognises. This isn't his cabin, he knows that much. This isn't his bed either. His eyes widen at the IV in his arm, and he lifts his gaze back up to the large machine resting next to him. All sorts of wires hang from the pole, some of which are attached to his arms or chest. Even in his hazy state, he knows he's wound up at a hospital or clinic.

Slowly, the worry ebbs away from his mind. So he's hurt. At least with that information, he can feel more secure that he's not in any immediate danger. Instead, it seems like he's been rescued from danger. He sinks back into the pillows and folds his hands on his lap.

He's nearly asleep again when someone knocks on the door—a woman, a bit older than him, with short red hair flaring around her narrow face. She clicks her teeth at him and smiles, and then steps into the room. Rather than scrubs, she wears a dashing vest and skirt with a long, white lab coat over top.

"Doctor?" he asks.

"Doctor Taki," she says, tapping at her name tag. "I've been waiting for you to wake up, but you look like you're ready to fall asleep again."

He muffles a yawn behind his fist. His eyes slip towards the IV pole—is she feeding him any sleeping medication? Who knows how long he was previously sleeping for, but he feels like he could pass out for another week.

She wanders round the room and inspects the IV pole. When she taps various buttons, they emit a soft beep. He wants to ask her what she's doing, or even better, what happened, but she beats him to the words. "How are you feeling?"

"Good," he finds himself saying at first. Then he clears his throat and adds, "Manageable. Is this the clinic?"

"Correct," Taki says. She scribbles down several notes onto a piece of paper.

Ryouken stretches up so that he can see just what she's written, but his sides give a painful twinge and he curls forward with a rough, "Fuck." Just what happened to him? He felt pain, but in his head, not his chest.

"Not so good," Taki says, clicking her tongue once more. "Is that your sides?"

"Where else?" he grounds out. His hips and ribs feel like they are on fire from the inside out. The pain feels like nothing he's experienced before: no pulsing aches or quick shots, but inside a constant burn like someone is piercing through his skin with hot knives. He tries to place a hand over the wound to steady it, but as soon as his fingers make contact, he hisses and curls away. It only increases the agony.

"Ryouken," he hears her say. "Ryouken, I'm going to give you an injection—"

He doesn't hear the rest.

When he next wakes up, Taki is right next to him. He remembers the last events, and he wonders how long it's been since then. Distantly, he feels the pain in his sides, but if he lets his mind wander, he forgets that he's even hurt. His mind feels fuzzy and full of cotton. Just what did she give him? He wants to ask her, but he doesn't trust himself to say something serious.

Fortunately, once his eyes open, she smiles at him and hugs her clipboard to her chest.

"You're awake." She writes a note down on her clipboard and then sets it down on a nearby table. "Can you wriggle your fingers for me? I'm going to ask you about your pain levels."

Apparently she doesn't trust his speech either. Ryouken wriggles his fingers back and forth. If he focuses as hard as he possibly can, he can bend the fingers he wants to.

Taki keeps on smiling at him. "Good. Now, can you read this for me?"

She hands him a picture of various faces—happy, sad, angry—under which are numbers and various descriptions of pain, such as whether the pain is manageable or unbearable, and the degree to which it is either manageable or unbearable. He's never seen such a graph before.

"Tell me, Ryouken, how does your pain feel today?"

Today? Did he respond to his graph before and forget about it? He doesn't remember. But to answer her question, he feels like a six. Bearable, but just barely.

"Mhm." She writes something else down on her clipboard.

His eyes narrow. Is she going to give him another injection? Is he going to pass out? He wants to ask her so much about what's going on, but he doesn't even know if he has the energy for it.

He can still try.

"Where ..." He winces at the dryness of his voice. "Am I?"

"At the clinic," she says, not looking up from her paperwork.

"How long ..." He can't even finish the sentence.

She holds up two fingers.

"Weeks?"

"Days," she says, holding back a laugh. "You haven't been out that long, trust me. But we've been monitoring your vitals to see how you are doing. If you're well enough, I can ask you a few questions, and you can ask me some too. But I need to make sure you're not in too much pain. Don't worry, we'll be able to chat."

Even if it hurts him to speak, he needs to know. "Tell me."

"Very well." She uncrosses her legs and places her clipboard back down at her side. She looks much more serious and composed, but her words still come off as gentle and reassuring. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"Being h … ere."

"I see."

"But." He swallows thickly. "But I think … I'm forgetting something ... something important. I don't remember ... what happened, how I got here ..." He glances up at her. "Will you tell me?"

He expects her to remain vague; however, she shrugs her shoulders and says, "You were in an vehicle accident. You were riding on one of your D-Boards when you knocked into someone else and had a head-on collision. You skidded across the ground, fracturing two of your ribs and grazing your skin. That's the pain you feel on your side. You also broke your wrist, as you may have noticed."

He did not, but sure enough there is a wooden splint wrapped around his wrist and fastened with gauze.

Slowly, he reaches up and touches his head. Instead of feeling scratchy linen bandages, he feels his hair, soft and clean. "Head-on collision, you said?"

Taki nods. "You managed to take the brunt of the damage when you fell off your D-Board and onto the ground, but if you gently reach forward and touch your—"

He winces as his fingers brush over a tender spot right above his forehead. It feels swollen and itchy, and when Taki passes him a hand mirror, he sees that there is a sizable, purple goose egg over his right eyebrow. Ouch. How he got out of a head-on traffic collision with the only head injury being a bump is beyond him, but he supposes he didn't come out unscathed. His ribs burn; each breath he takes tugs at the healing wounds. His wrist twinges from time to time, and the skin itches.

"Your found it." She taps one of her nails on her thighs and continues. "You were immediately brought to the clinic and have since been here. You're making a speedy recovery, but I suspect you'll be here for at least another week while your ribs recover. I'd like to see those wounds close a bit more before you start pulling wild stunts on that board."

She keeps on smiling at him, and Ryouken chews on his lip. He's quite skilled at manoeuvring boards; he's even driven a car before. He can't imagine him, a child of Athena, crashing into anything, but then ...

"How is the other person?"

"Hm?"

"The person who hit me."

"Oh." Her shoulders give a slight jump, brushing against the edges of her red hair. "She's fine. She stayed on her board, so the worst that happened to her is that she got a bit bruised around her head."

Lucky, he thinks. He wonders who he hit—Aoi, perhaps. She was always a reckless driver and duelist, partly because of her god lineage as a child of Nike, and partly because she's just plain competitive. Besides, it was probably Aoi who hit  _ him— _ his driving skills are better.

His gaze wanders around the room. He's never been in the clinic before, but it looks how he would expect a clinic to look: sterile yet homey. There's a single window in his room, and outside he sees the clear, blue sea stretching as far as it can. If he closes his eyes, he can picture the lull of the ocean waves. He can imagine the ripples running over the stones, or slapping against pierced rocks in the sea floor. The seagulls caws sound so much closer than beyond his room. 

"Do you have any other questions?" Taki asks him, still smiling that small, mirthy smile.

"When can I leave this bed?" he asks.

She chuckles, light and breezy. "When you aren't in so much pain." She brushes herself down as she stands. As she turns to leave, she winks at him. "Don't be such a hero, all right? I can tell you're grimacing." And with that, she leaves.

Over the next few days, or what seem like it, Taki visits him multiple times. She takes his temperature and checks his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose. She has him bend his joints and tests his movement and flexibility. Each day, she asks him about his pain level, and if he tries to lie to her, she catches him with sly, serpentine eyes. She remains polite and friendly throughout each of his visits, but slowly Ryouken becomes more and more restless. He wants to leave his bed and wander around.

Eventually, he gets to leave his room. It should be easy to walk since his legs are bandaged up, but for some reason his sides still twinge when he takes a step. How can walking even do that? But he makes it out of the room and down the hallway into a quiet living room. A long sectional couch stretches over a plush rug; next to it stands a coffee table upon which are neatly arranged books.

Ryouken glances from left to right.

"Where is everyone else?" he asks.

"Undergoing therapy in another room," Taki says. She carries a hot mug of coffee in her hands, and she sets in down in front of him. "But it's not like this is the emergency ward of a hospital—there's no urgent medical attention here."

He wants to ask her why, but he keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he gazes out the window. The deep, blue sea stares back at him. Even in the daylight, the light freckles off the surface. The waters look so peaceful from afar.

"How long until I can leave?"

"Hm?" Taki tilts her head at him. "How long until you leave, or how long until you've fully recovered? Those are two different questions."

He groans. He wants to leave here and get better right away. "How long ... until I can leave?"

"That depends. You're making good progress, but you still have a ways to go. You only just got here, Ryouken. Give yourself some time."

It feels like he's been here for weeks, maybe even longer. He feels like he's been cooped up in that room. This is the first time he's ever left the room, and already he wants to step out onto the balcony and feel the ocean breeze on his skin. He wants to breathe clean air. A part of him even wants to get back on his D-Board and sail off along the water.

"Tell me," Taki says, leaning closer, "just what were you doing that day on the D-Board?"

"Don't remember."

"Do you normally go for rides?"

He shakes his head. Even with his foggy memory, he can't remember ever wanting to be on a board. "I just wanted to get out, I guess."

"Out?"

He blinks. What did he mean by that? Out? He shakes his head and takes a deep sip of his tea. Mind clearer, he adds, "Just to move."

"Hm," Taki says at first, and Ryouken stiffens. As kind as she seems, he doesn't enjoy conversation, especially not mundane, trivial chatter. But then she speaks up once more: "I can understand that. I liked being out too—riding, driving ... really, any kind of movement. I even liked to surf."

His ears prick at those words. "Out here?"

"Along that water," she says, jutting out her chin to point at the sparkling sea. "You can glide for hours along the coast and never have to stop. You can be there forever."

"If I wasn't in the hospital, that is."

"Sorry."

They lapse into a content silence, like a blanket falling over their heads and shoulders. Ryouken sips at his tea and watches the waves lap at the coastline. If he stretches his head out, he can see the jut of land, and he wonders if there are footpaths leading down to the water. In his distant memory, he can recall wandering through forests and grassy plains, but never here.

"Is this on the coast?" he asks.

"Hm?"

"The coast," he repeats. "The coastline of the camp."

"Oh." Taki pauses and tilts her head up towards the ceiling. "We're higher than the main camp."

That explains why this is such an unfamiliar sight to him. He's never seen the sea nor coastline before. At the main camp, the land just drops off. But somehow there is water out here. Perhaps, if he walked across the water, he'd fall off the edge. But ... he remembers walking across the water before. No, gliding across the ocean's surface on a glowing board. The memory feels hazy and it prickles at the corner of his mind, but he still remembers the trip.

What trip?

"Am I really in Camp Vrains?" he asks. 

Taki laughs outright, the sound chipping at his nerves. Something about her laughter sets his teeth on edge.

"Of course you are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does this feel like a strange chapter? probably. will it make sense down the road? of course.  
> see you next Wednesday for the next chapter, and if you'd like, let me know what you think <3


	8. EIGHT: Chase

He feels like he's being chased. Wherever he looks, the world glares back at him. Every lamppost looks out of place; every car holds a lethal enemy ready to snipe him. Everything seems slightly wrong, and no matter how many deep breaths he takes, Yuusaku feels no less at ease. Next to him, Takeru shakes like a leaf in the wind, and even Spectre looks paler and withdrawn. For the longest time, none of them say a word, too afraid that if they speak up, someone will swoop down and snatch them up.

He keeps a steady, even pace across the city and out towards the northern hospital. He can't remember much of his childhood here, but he knows this hospital is mainly for long-term patients. If Ryouken was brought here, they must have planned to keep him for a while.

Ahead of him stretches wide, empty space. Unlike the southern hospital tucked into the busy, congested city, the northern hospital sits on a bit of barren land. It's a beautiful building—glass and stone, with a courtyard that reminds him of the bowling greens of a golf course—but it stands out like a sore thumb from the otherwise empty landscape. The city hasn't stretched out and built houses in this area; they haven't even built any other roads. There is a single-file road that leads to and from the hospital.

"Do we have the same plan as last time?" Takeru speaks up.

"Stick together," Yuusaku says. "We can't be separated from one another, no matter what."

Spectre snorts and tilts his head towards the window. "And you think we can easily walk in and see Ryouken?"

"Why not?" Yuusaku says. He tries to keep his voice light and even. "We're going to see a friend."

"Because whoever kidnapped him—"

"—isn't going to know we're demigods," Yuusaku finishes. "At all. We're just going to see Ryouken because we know him from school. We won't pretend anything is wrong, unless ..." He sinks his teeth into his lip. If something does go wrong, they'll have to book it out of the building and rush home. He gazes in his rear-view mirror—they're in the opposite direction of Stardust Road, the only way back to Camp Vrains. Out here, there isn't even a speck of water in sight. It's just them and a single, white van cruising behind them.

Slowly, he narrows his eyes.

Takeru stiffens at once. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Yuusaku says, trying once more to keep his voice level.

"Is it that van?" Spectre says. He taps his fingers to the glass, and adds, "It's been following us for the past ten minutes."

He tries to chip away his anxiety. He tries. There's only one road in and out of the hospital, so it would make sense to have a car follow you. It would make much more sense than panicking that they were being—

"You think they're following us?" Spectre says.

Yuusaku can't bring himself to say no. It looks almost identical to the white van that parked by the hotdog truck on the day he went to Den City. In fact, it looks too similar. It can't be any other truck but that one. Slowly, Yuusaku presses his foot down on the gas. He watches his side-mirrors, and sure enough the truck pulls up to maintain the same distance between them.

Spectre snaps his fingers. "Yep, they're definitely following us."

"What do we do?" Takeru says. His voice wobbles at the end, and he bites his lip with his teeth. All the colour has drained from his face. Small, red sparks burst from his hands, and he hastily shoves them between his thighs before he sets off wild flames in the van.

"Act normal?" Spectre says with a shrug.

"Exactly. We can't act like we're suspicious in any way, shape, or form. We just have to be ourselves."

Spectre leans across the seat, pushing his face into Takeru's. "Got that?"

With a huff, Takeru pushes him back. Small cinders land on Spectre's t-shirt, and he brushes them off. His sharp, white teeth peek through his thin smile.

"If anyone's going to set them off,” Specte says, "it'll be you."

"Quiet." Yuusaku lets out a breath nestled deep in his lungs. He pulls the car into the parking lot, but doesn't park at once. Instead, he winds his way through the stalls, taking his time to examine each available spot. He keeps one eye on the white van. It pulls into the first available stall and parks, but no one clambers out of it.

"Park elsewhere," Takeru says. "Away from them."

However, there's only so much short-term parking available. Besides, the more Yuusaku thinks about the suspicious van, the more he begins to doubt his own actions. Is he being suspicious by not choosing a stall? Is he being suspicious driving a car at this day? When he gets out of the car, will the lab-coat wearing strangers hop out of the van too? Every move he makes seems too awkward. He'll stick out like a sore thumb.

"Just park the car already," Spectre grumbles.

Yuusaku pulls into the next available spot. He turns off the engine, but leaves the keys. Swallows. His heart hammers against his ribs. The entire car feels like it's vibrating. If he gets out, will he be kidnapped too? The strangers still haven't left the vehicle.

_ Maybe we should turn around, _ says a little voice inside his head.  _ Maybe we should go back to Camp Vrains and forget about this. _ But then, even stronger is the voice of the kid he tried to save. Even stronger is the fear of losing another demigod, of losing Ryouken.

He pushes the door open and slides out. He feels like he's walked into a war zone with a big, red target on his head, but no bullets pierce his skull. Out here in the middle of nowhere, the world is too quiet. It's quieter than the camp has ever been. The only signs of life are the slight whir of a car pulling out of the parking lot, and the muted mumble of hospital generators and engines.

Takeru and Spectre slip out of their seats and join him. However, Spectre keeps on walking. He marches forward with his head held high, arms swinging on either side of him. If Yuusaku has a target on his head, Spectre has a bounty. With his white hair, he stands out like a bright beacon beckoning death. Hopefully, whoever kidnapped Ryouken doesn't have a demigod list with any of their names or faces on it. But if they do, they'll spot Yuusaku first.

They've  _ seen  _ him.

"Should we have used code names?" Takeru whispers to him.

Yuusaku opens his mouth to answer when Spectre shouts out, "Yuusaku, Takeru, hurry up!"

_ We're going to get kidnapped too,  _ Yuusaku thinks, yet he marches forward after Spectre.

His first sight of the hospital reminds him much more of a dentist's office: quieter and homier than the previous hospital. There's a waiting area to the side and a small row of counters and desks where several secretaries sit. However, there are no visibly ill people lying on plastic chairs waiting to be seen by a doctor. There are no flashing lights alerting doctors to dying patients. It's perhaps the calmest hospital Yuusaku has ever seen. 

"We sure this is the right place?" Takeru asks.

Spectre heads towards the desks, but Yuusaku catches him by the shoulder.

"What?"

"We can't ask them for help," Yuusaku says.

Spectre scrunches his nose up. "Why not?"

"What if they work for the kidnappers?"

"So? How else are we going to find Ryouken?"

Spectre tries to pull away, but Yuusaku tightens his grip and holds him steady. "We can't march up there and assume that we're not putting ourselves in danger. If you blow our cover, we're dead. We should look for him ourselves. Trust no one but each other."

It sounds ridiculous, but it might be what they need to make it out of here.

The doors swing open, and Yuusaku chokes. The doors—who's come in—

People. Normal, everyday people with brown hair wearing casual clothes. They look like everyone else in this building.

"Don't you think you're being a little paranoid?"

Yuusaku shakes his head. if anything, they aren't being cautious enough. He pulls Spectre away, and to his surprise, he follows like a faithful dog. Takeru trails behind them. As they head to the elevators, Yuusaku keeps his eyes peeled for any familiar faces, anyone tucked behind a corner and speaking into a radio. Every hair on his body trembles. His breath catches in his lungs. He blinks to clear the haze from his eyes, but he feels himself getting dizzy just walking around here.

The ride in the elevator brings his stomach up to his throat. When the doors open, he stumbles out and braces himself against the wall.

This is only the first floor.

"Can we ask these nurses?" Takeru asks, peering down the hallway. Ahead of them is an unlocked ward with a little name plate pasted on the door. Through the windows, he sees patients and nurses wandering around. There's a desk and counter there too, but Yuusaku shakes his head.

"We'll just do a quick lap and then head back."

Spectre snorts to himself. "You really think they'll just let us wander in there? And that all the nurses will let us do it for each ward?"

"He should be here, on this floor," Yuusaku says. "He was in an accident, right? If he's not in surgery, he should be resting here."

Spectre doesn't answer, and Yuusaku steps forward. He braces a hand on either side of the door. Takes a deep breath. When he pushes the doors open, he expects something: applause, Ryouken's voice, or even the sound of doctors rushing towards him and dragging him away. But life at the ward continues undisturbed: patients mill back into their rooms, followed by nurses dressed in brightly-coloured scrubs. The phone rings and a nearby nurse at the desk answers it.

He steps through the doorway and begins the walk down the hallway. Each room has a name tag in front of it, so he doesn't even need to enter and see who is sleeping on the bed. The three of them wander down the pathway, shuffling their feet. Each step crackles on the ground. He keeps letting out his breaths in stunted pants—he's never been so afraid in his life.

Halfway around the ward, a nurse stops them. "Hey there, you looking for anyone in particular?"

Yuusaku freezes. His mind runs, and spins, and flips—

"Ryouken," Spectre says. "Kougami Ryouken. He on this floor?"

The nurse tilts his head to the side. "Kougami? Hm, let me check and see ..."

As soon as the nurse walks away, Takeru slaps a hand to his forehead. "Geez, Spectre—"

"You two are the most awkward, suspicious-looking people in this entire ward," he says, crossing his arms over his chest. "Were you going to just zone out and hope the guy leaves you alone?"

It wasn't his intention, but Yuusaku finds himself nodding along anyways. Who even knows what he would have said or done had Spectre not stepped in.

The nurse returns before they can get another word in. His youthful face is drawn down in a small frown, and even before he approaches them, Yuusaku knows the words he'll say. "Sorry guys, but there's no Kougami here. Was he perhaps sent to another hospital?"

"We just came from the other one," Takeru says.

"Another hospital in the next city, perhaps," the nurse says. He scratches at his head, looking as awkward as they all feel.

Yuusaku's blood freezes in his veins. "On the news though," he says. "I saw on the news that ... that my associate was sent here after he was caught in an accident. I just saw it on the news."

The nurse frowns. "I don't know if I can help you, sir ..."

Over the top of his head, Yuusaku sees a flash of green—olive-green, the colour of the man's hair. He only sees a sliver of it before he grabs Takeru and Spectre by their wrists and pulls them away. His heart stops when he turns to see the empty wall at the end of the hallway. There's only one way in and out of this ward: through the doors and to the green-haired man.

"Yuusaku, what's ..."

He feels fire between his and Takeru's palms.

"It's fine," he says. He pinches the skin of Takeru's palms, and the heat weakens. "We're going through those doors. Now."

"But what—"

"Follow me."

He drops their hands and heads down the hallway, head bowed. He feels like he's walking into a pit of danger. He knows that stranger. All it would take is a quick injection and he'd be out cold and able to be transported. Would the kidnappers work at the hospital? Would they have hidden Ryouken away at the hospital. A million thoughts run through Yuusaku's head, and none of them sound favourable.

"Yuusaku ..."

They pass through the doors, past the green-haired man. Yuusaku's heart leaps into his throat, but he doesn't say a word. Already he's memorised the path back to the car. They have to act normal. They have to pretend nothing is wrong.

As they step into the elevator, the green-haired stranger follows them. On his lab coat is a little name tag that reads "Dr. Genome." Yuusaku doubts he's a doctor or that he works here. He keeps glancing at them out of the corner of his eye.

Yuusaku's palms begin to sweat. The elevator drops lower and lower, down into the bell of the building. They were only on the second floor, yet it seems to take hours for the car to stall and the doors to open. Neither Takeru nor Spectre make a sound; whether they know they are in danger or not, Yuusaku doesn't know. At this point, it no longer matters how suspicious they are.

They've been caught.

The doors open with a soft  _ bing!,  _ and Yuusaku hurries forward, snatching up his friends' hands and dragging them along. His feet smack the ground so loudly that the whole hospital must know they're leaving.

As calmly as he can, he says, "Let's go back to the city and get ice cream."

The doors open for them and they head across the parking lot to the van. Behind him, Yuusaku hears another pair of feet. Closer, closer. The tapping sound pricks his ears.

_ Click. _

He throws his hands forward, tossing Spectre and Takeru as if they're baseballs. They stumble forward, but both of them seem to sense the urgency, for they keep on running to the van and around to their seats.

Yuusaku spins on his heel and faces Genome. Painful memories flash in Yuusaku's mind: hanging over the ocean, clinging to the young demigod, trying vainly and desperately to free them from Genome. He remembers the salt burning his eyes and the roar of the ocean waves. Now, he tastes the salt on his lips and his eyes burn. Genome runs towards him with a hand raised, fingers poised along a syringe with a coloured vial. As the hand approaches, Yuusaku's powers activate: the vial shatters, spilling the liquid down Genome's hands. He leaps back in shock, but does not panic over the spilt liquid. Not a corrosive substance, it appears.

However, it buys Yuusaku the valuable time he needs. He spins around and rushes to the car, throwing open the door and sliding inside. Takeru and Spectre waited for him. Yuusaku's shaking hands fumble for the keys in his pockets. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Genome move, run—

_ Crack!  _ goes the pavement around them. Large vines, the size and length of serpents, pierce through the dry cement and fall on top of Genome. More vines burst from the ground and tangle themselves around the van which, in the time since they left the parking lot, has driven closer to them. In the window, Yuusaku sees the furious face of the red-haired woman.

He has no time to chastise Spectre about using his powers. They're already caught.

Yuusaku slams his foot down on the pedal, car backpedaling over stray vines. The wheel lurches out of his hands, and he has to clench his hands so tightly his nails turn white just to keep himself on course. The same thought keeps running through his head:  _ this can't be happening.  _ But even louder is the lurching fear that this is happening and he could be kidnapped too.

Tires screech across the cement.

The car takes off through the parking lot. He swerves around a car that looks like it's simply searching for a place to park, but with his mind on high alert, he wonders if this is another strange person trying to block his path so he can be taken. The van's tires screech behind him too—the white van is following him.

"Yuusaku ..." Takeru sounds as scared as he feels. Yuusaku doesn't even trust his own voice. "Who are they—"

"Bad guys, that's who." Spectre slams his hands down on the dash box. Another set of vines sprout up from the ground behind them, knocking aside bits of stray pavement as if they were made of twigs. The ground grumbles and rolls like the start of an earthquake.

"Now would be a good time to use your powers, you know." Spectre fixes Takeru with a stern stare. "Aren't you infamous for blowing stuff up?"

"B-but I can't control it!" His words come out sharp and squeaked. "And besides, I could hit—hit the car!"

Yuusaku jeers the wheel to the side, cutting off the road and onto the flat expanse of ground. He can't lead himself into traffic. It would keep him under cover, but he'd only be slowing himself down and trapping them in the city. Ahead of them is great, empty expanse. There's no place to hide, but surely if he drives far enough, the van will give up.

In the mirror, the van shows no signs of stopping.

"Just lean out the window and hit them," Spectre says. "Or are you really that weak?"

"Why you—"

_ Boom!  _ Dirt flies through the air, lava spewing from a crack in the earth.

"Like that," Spectre says with a smile. Without even a single glance out the window, the next set of vines burst from the ground. They catch round the toppled boulders Takeru's magic created and catapult them through the air. The resulting crash shakes the car.

But even with the magic, the white van presses on, swerving out of the way. Yuusaku doesn't see any attacks from them—are they even being followed by demigods, or people who want a demigod's powers? He's never seen the lab coat strangers attack them with magic.

"Yuusaku, up!"

A board soars over his head—a D-Board, its slim body creating a thin shadow over the ground. The rider crouches low as they descend. Their short, blue hair whips back and forth in the wind. A D-Board, out here though? He's only ever seen such inventions in Camp Vrains, not in Den City. Yet the rider seems far too experienced for someone who otherwise would have just acquired such a board.

"Is that Ryouken's board?" Spectre asks.

Yuusaku hopes not, but then again, where else would such a board exist? Unless these people are—or were once-affiliated with the camp.

_ Boom!  _ goes the ground again as Takeru's next blast of magic sends a shockwave through the ground. Yuusaku's own powers activate as the wheel wiggles out of his hands, and not only does he manage to steer the van across the empty plain, but a chasm erupts between them. Dirt caves in, creating the mouth of a rapidly-growing abyss. Spectre's vines scurry through the falling rock, breaking the chasm even further open. By the end of the spectacle, the chasm is several feet across, and at least a hundred feet wide.

"Up above!"

The rider dives. Yuusaku clenches his eyes shut, but he hears Takeru's magic first: a pop, then a sizzle, then a scream as the rider plummets to the ground. His fellow in the van catches him before the resulting crash, yet there's not a chance they can catch up to the vehicle.

Yuusaku breathes a sigh of relief. They've lost them, at least for now.

He expects Takeru and Spectre to burst into applause, but the two of them are just as shell-shocked in the passenger seats. Takeru is the first to shake himself off and laugh a weak, shaky laugh.

"Some day," he says with a laugh.

Spectre laughs along with him, but like Takeru, it sounds more like a relieved exhale. He massages his burnt hand with his thumb and adds, "And we still didn't find Ryouken."

Yuusaku swallows thickly. The only place Ryouken could be is with those people, but unless they were to be kidnapped, would they ever find it out? In his mirror, he sees the van drive back towards the city. It would take weeks to scour that entire area, and by that time Ryouken could already be ...

Up ahead stretches the mountains, toppling one over the other until they tumble into the sea. He thought he was much further out from the city, with no civilisation or nature in sight. Yet now that he's no longer driving to save himself and his friends, he sees the ocean in the distance—likely the same ocean he travelled across to get here. The beautiful blue water looks star-speckled even from here, and though the sun has begun to descend, the world hasn't turned quite so dark.

"Tonight," Yuusaku says, "we go back into the city to look for Ryouken."

"Where?" Takeru asks.

"Those people are after us too, remember." He shivers at the memory of the lab-coated strangers. He's seen far too much of them these past few days. "Surely if we go back to the city, they'll find us again."

"And you want to get captured?" Spectre laughs out loud, tossing his head back into the seat. "I thought you hated that idea."

"I still do," Yuusaku says, "and so that's why we won't get kidnapped. We'll kidnap one of them."


	9. NINE: Solution

Ryouken wouldn't consider himself bedbound, or even housebound, but he's never needed to leave to leave the room. All his meals are brought to him. Several times a day Dr. Taki visits him and asks him a series of questions. Sometimes she asks him to stretch certain muscles, or to think about a complex problem. He's started to notice that her activities have become increasingly strenuous—not that he has felt any pain, fortunately—and that her questions have turned complex and brain-wracking. Though it's never any trouble for him, he finds himself having to put effort into her physical and mental exercises.

It makes the day seem a little faster.

One day, she comes with something entirely new for him—well, at first,  _ someone.  _ Standing next to her in the doorway is a shorter man with slick, olive-green hair and a squished face. His eyes, nose, and mouth don't seem to fit across his visage, and all of them poke out a bit as they struggle for space. When he smiles, shivers run down Ryouken's back. He can't put his finger on it, but this man seems far less friendlier than Taki.

Nonetheless, Taki stands next to him with a hand on his shoulder. She smiles warmly at him, bouncing her shoulders. "Ryouken, this is Dr. Genome. He'll be helping me today with some of your physical therapy."

Ryouken sits upright on the bed, but makes no motion to get up. "Therapy? That's what you're calling it?"

"Exercise then." Taki brandishes her clipboard—the same one she always carries with her. She digs a pen out from the deep pockets of her lab coat and writes down a note. "Are you feeling up for a challenge?"

He stands on his two feet. He hasn't felt a single twinge of pain since the first day he came here. Whatever Taki has done, her work has been impressive. He hasn't felt so rejuvenated in his life. He bends his knees back and forth, and stretches his arms up above his head.

Taki's grin widens. "Very well. Follow me."

He blinks. "Follow ..."

"Dr. Genome has a special exercise for you," Taki explains. "But I'll explain it to you out in the courtyard. Come along."

A part of him wants to hear her explanation right now, but he wonders if he questions her if she'll drop the test and leave him in the room. More than anything he wants to get out of these cramped quarters and see the camp. His mind is fuzzy on details, but he remembers forests and trees.

He follows her out the door and down a long, white hallway. The bright lights hurt his eyes. Everything around him feels sterile and artificial. The tapping sound their feet make on the ground stings his eardrums; feet shouldn't make sounds like that. He almost considers turning tail and heading back to his room when he sees a stairway leading up to another level. He frowns. Was he in a basement this entire time? Do they even have basements in hospitals, or was he simply on a lower level?

He climbs the stairs up to the next floor. To his surprise, it looks nothing like a hospital: no cots or machines, or doctors wandering the area. It looks much more like a living room. Two plush couches face a fireplace decorated with historical artefacts, some of which look like they could have come from centuries ago. The rest of the house looks futuristic, carved out of solid steel and with a balcony stretching out from the side of the house.

He sucks in a breath.

Never before has Ryouken seen such a beautiful sea before. Stars dapple the surface like fairy lights. To his surprise, it's late at night, and the moon hangs from the dark sky. He can't tell where the sky ends and the sea begins; it's blended together into a black-and-white world.

"Come along, daydreamer," Taki says. She pokes him on the shoulder and he stumbles forward. He digs his heels in though.

"Where?"

"Here, here."

Here turns out to be not in the living room nor on the balcony, but instead through a small door tucked into the side of the wall that leads out into a crisp garden. There's just enough space for the three of them to stand and swing their arms, but around them borders first a gate and then the cliffside. Carefully, Ryouken peeks over the edge. The dark sea awaits him. He can hear the swirls and crashes of the waves, but from up here the ocean seems still and peaceful.

He turns back to Genome, who has yet to say a word. In his hands, he holds a small, silver disk no bigger than an ornate wristwatch. He swings it back and forth by its chain, and then tosses it to Ryouken. He catches it in his cupped hands.

"A ... D-Board?" Ryouken says. As poor as his current memory is, he can at least recall one of the main activities demigods learnt while at camp. He also remembers being one of the best riders.

"Very good," Genome says. "You remember how to activate it?"

He clicks the side of the watch and it pops out into a D-Board. Baffling as it may be, this isn't the first time he's used a D-Board. On top of that, he can feel Genome and Taki watching him. Are they testing him? How can this be any sort of test?

The board hovers at his feet, smooth and sleek. Bits of transparent glass flicker from the lights illuminated underneath it. When he steps a foot down on the surface, new lights appear. The board adjust to his weight, and he easily steps up onto it. As if it were second nature, his knees bend and he holds his arms out in front of him.

"Good, good," Taki says, clapping her hands together. "You're a natural at this."

Ryouken nods. Slowly, the board rises another inch off the ground. He crouches lower. In the back of his mind, he remembers the first time he stepped onto a board. It didn't fly out from underneath him—that was Takeru—but he leapt when it shifted. It feels like ages ago since he last stepped onto one of these.

He glances over his shoulder. "The test?"

"Try it out," Taki says. She stifles a giggle into her palms and adds, "I hope this isn't your first time."

He scoffs at her words. Demigods have their first D-Board lesson within the first week.

Jamming his heel back into the accelerator, he takes off into the sky. His leg muscles jump at the change in gravity and altitude, but he adjusts his balance and keeps himself low to the board. The wind cuts through his hair; he wishes he had his riding goggles. Who knows where those ended up. He yanks his shirt neck up over his nose and mouth, and squints his eyes as he plunges into the clouds.

He sees nothing. The grey, cloudy sky swallows up the stars. He moves like a spectre through the sky, without even a shadow following behind him. When he looks down, fog or smoke catches on his legs.

Then he breaks through the clouds, down towards the water. He cuts up just before he nose-dives into the chilly water. His board skates along the coastline. Unlike before, when he travelled over an invisible path, he bounces over the waves, spraying his ankles with salty water. The stars on the surface disappear the more he churns the water. A laugh bubbles up in his throat, and with a smile he shoots along the water, spinning, twisting, creating a mess of waves to navigate through.

Ahead of him stretches the endless nighttime sky. In the far distance, he sees a flicker of lighting, but he can't pinpoint whether it's a star or streetlight. The whole world looks lit up by stars. Above him must be the other islands at the camp, but with all the clouds, he can't see through the thicket. Even the invisible path across the water has disappeared.

... path?

He frowns. Wasn't there a path around here, one that would let him bypass the rocky waves? He remembers travelling down it and stopping at a tall stone wall, different from the rocky cliffside that he now faces. Where was he back then? Was he on another island of Camp Vrains, or is this just a subsection of the camp? He's never wandered all the way around the perimeter, but he's familiar with every map of the entire camp—including all the islands around the spire—and never before has he seen a body of water so deep.

On the top of the cliff, Genome and Taki wave back at him.

He tilts his board back up to the house and glides to a stop before them. His legs shake when he steps off, but the air in his lungs feels crisp and clean.

"Good ride?" Taki asks. She reaches out a hand to steady him, but Ryouken slips out of her grip.

"Where is this exactly?" he asks instead. When no response appears immediately, he points out to the water. "Are we on the same island as the camp?"

Genome shakes his head.

"Further up," Taki says.

He's never been higher than the main section of Camp Vrains before. He always knew there was more to the camp than a single level, but he never expected this sort of area to exist. More and more questions fill his mind: how is there an ocean up here? Where are the other campers? Do the others even know he's up here? Yet as friendly as Taki may be, he still gets the feeling from her that she's not going to give him the answers he wants.

Something else has happened.

"How high up?” Ryouken asks.

"Much more than you could travel by D-Board," Taki says. "You've come a long ways, but don't worry, you're still close to home. Why? Do you remember something?"

_ The stars,  _ he wants to say.  _ I remember the stars.  _ But the nagging thought remains in his brain: where is the path? It was translucent, but still he should have been able to see it, unless it was from a dream. It felt real though. He was there, driving across the water.

"Ryouken." Genome folds his hands neatly in front of him. His sharp eyebrows cut into his little, marble-shaped eyes. "You must be wondering why exactly you are here.”

"I figured you'd tell me."

Teeth sink into the soft flesh of Genome's lip. "We found you after an accident, but why you are here specifically is not something that we would widely share. However, Taki and I trust you with something. Over the past couple days, we have given you a series of physical and mental tests to judge your agility, strength, and intelligence."

"Tests?" He snorts. "Without my consent too."

"There was no one forcing you to complete them," Genome says. His smile is full of rounded teeth that still send shivers down Ryouken's back. Why does he feel so uneasy around this doctor? With Taki, he at least feels reassured that he'll have his best interests in mind. But with Genome, he feels nothing but fear—and he hates fear. He clenches his hands in fists and rides out a wave of anxiety. Eyebrows set low over his eyes, Ryouken asks his next question.

"Why have you been testing me?"

"We have a task for you, child of Athena. We have noticed that, as gifted as you are with demigod abilities, that you struggle with them. You can't use your gifts effectively, and they cause more harm than good. We've been observing many demigods to come to this hypothesis, and now with you we are much more certain that demigod blood harms mortals."

"And?" Ryouken tips his head to the side. "What would you like to do with that?"

Genome curls his fingers together. "Take those powers out of you."

Ice prickles down his spine. Ryouken freezes on the spot, sucking in a sharp breath that feels coated in ice shards. He's heard of people like this before—kidnappers and murderers that hunt down demigods and take their powers for their own. He's been protected by Camp Vrains, so then how—how did he get caught by them? Have they infiltrated the camp, or is he elsewhere?

A gentle hand settles on his shoulder, slowing down his thoughts. Through his bangs, he sees Taki smiling her same, warm smile down at him.

"You're safe," she says, "and you're still at Camp Vrains. I promise."

His heart still hammers in his chest.

"We work with the camp leaders—"

"Who are they?"

"Hm?"

"The camp leaders—tell me their names." He curls his lip back at them. "If you're with Camp Vrains and the demigods, then tell me who the leaders are. You must know."

Taki clicks her tongue against her teeth and settles back against the stone wall surrounding the garden. "Ema, Jin, and Kusanagi," she says. "That is what you kids call them, correct?"

His eyes dart to the corners. There's no way out of here except off the cliffside or down the pathway, and both options seem nothing short of reckless and impossible. He's been cornered here without his knowing.

"And the camp," Ryouken presses. "How do you get out of the camp?"

Her smile widens. "You demigods don't know that," she says. "Now you're just trying to trick me, and I won't fall for that." Carefully, she reaches into a pocket of her jacket and extracts a small sheet of paper. "I know this is a lot of information for you to process, Ryouken, but we do need your help, both Genome and I. We are private researchers of Camp Vrains, hired by the camp leaders to conduct a specific investigation on young demigods' attachment to their powers. Over time, we've found that demigods have become increasingly stressed with their abilities, causing them to lash out and hurt themselves and others. Us camp officials have been undertaking various plans to help you."

"And recently," Genome says, "we've found a possible solution: extraction."

The single word pierces Ryouken's heart. He doesn't have to ask them for a definition, for he already knows what they could possibly be referring to, but Genome still explains it for him.

"The removal of your demigod powers. With this, demigods can once more exist in the mortal world without fearing for their lives. You'll no longer need to dread adolescence where your abilities are tempermental at best and destructive at worst. You children can return to whatever cities you came from and no longer worry about having to say goodbye to your basic lives. Isn't that what many of you have wanted all along?"

It sounds too good to be true. It must be. But he can't stop the quirk of his lips or the flutter of his heart. As fuzzy as his memories may be, he clearly remembers his trip to Camp Vrains, shoved into the back of a bouncing hotdog van. He'd been quieter than death, tucked in the corner and hooping that whenever the door opened he'd be somewhere better. But even still, he recalls closing his eyes and praying someone bring him home.

"You can go home," Taki says.

"Why me?" He crosses his arms over his chest, one hand still braced on the D-Board. Genome and Taki's expressions drop slightly, and his gaze hardens. "You want to save demigods, but you picked me—how come?"

"Because you wanted to go home—"

"Everyone wants to go home," he snaps. "That's no reason to take me. Why not Spectre? Or Takeru? Or Yuusaku? Or anyone else? We all don't like it here, one way or another. We're all stuck here waiting out our time until we can return to reality, if that's even possible."

"Your ... ability," Genome says, sounding out the syllables as if speaking to a child. "A child of Athena proves useful for this experiment due to your intelligence and strategy."

"You mean how I'm less destructive?" He wants to snort. They should have picked Spectre: he loves the attention.

Taki snaps her fingers. "You're persuasive."

"Hm?"

"If you gave someone an order, they'd follow you," she continues. "Or if you told someone a secret, they'd listen to you. You have a way with people that makes them feel interested, safe, secure ... and to run a successful test, we need a leader."

He raises a slender, thin eyebrow. A leader? They're already leaders, and have much more control or leadership than he would. At the camp, he's no one's friend. Sure, other demigods may listen to him, but only because he's a child of Athena and ...

Oh.

"So you want me to convince everyone to give up their powers?"

"Essentially," Taki says with a firm nod of her head. "Of all the children of Athena, we think you're the most suited for this task. Don't worry, you won't need to gather everyone; we researchers are hard at work too. But we'd like you to help us learn about some of the demigods here."

He shrugs a shoulder. A prickle in the back of his mind suggests maybe—just maybe—there's more to this plan, but he brushes it off in favour of learning more. Currently, he doubts that Taki will even give him a straight answer to some of his queries, and Genome seems even less likely to share a single fact about his research. Ryouken will have to conduct his own private investigation to learn more about this study.

"Why don't you recruit Spectre as a test subject? Trust me, he'll want to be a part of it. He'll gladly give himself up for any and all testing ... and you should be worried about that."

Taki nods her head, but the glint in her eyes says she's anything but satisfied with his words. "I actually have someone in mind that I'd like to meet, someone that I know also would like to be free of his powers."

Genome passes him a sheet of paper. "This demigod here."

"Fu ... Fujiki Yuusaku?" He pushes the paper back to them. "You have a mistake."

Taki pushes the paper back into his hands, and while not rough, her gesture seems stronger than her usual, gentle bedside manner. Her eyes have grown stormier and colder. Above their heads, the sky swirls with dark clouds. In just his thin hospital wear, Ryouken shivers. Have they been standing out here for long? It wasn't even this cold when he skated across the water.

"You know Fujiki—"

"So does everyone else—"

"—and we'd like you help him. Please."

Ryouken crumples the paper's edges between his tight fists. "I don't think you understand what Fujiki and I are like together."

"Your powers react," Genome says. Voice light and airy, he continues: "Or well, Fujiki's powers have a particular attraction to you. We're not quite sure why, but we know this is a possible case. However, what we know for a fact is that, among demigods, Fujiki is dangerous to himself and others. He suffers from his powers, and you suffer because of him. More than anything, we'd like to mend—"

"Do you have these notes for me too?" Ryouken flips through the bundle of papers, eyes scanning the pages upon pages of graphs and forms. These researchers appear to have every detail of Yuusaku: age, height, and weight; statistics from school and from camp; and even peculiar details about his interests and hobbies. He supposes this must be Ema's notes from her observations of the demigods, though he always thought she only did that when they were humans, not when they moved into the camp. It appears she's continued to take notes.

"Do you have notes on everyone?"

Taki nods her head. "Not many demigods have seen their personal files."

"Where's mine?"

"Stored away," Genome says, tone clipped. "Now—"

"Why me?" Ryouken presses. "Why not Takeru—that's Yuusaku's friend? Or have one of the camp leaders help out?"

"Because," Taki says, "you're reliable and trustworthy. The other demigods will listen to you. And even Yuusaku will follow along once you explain what your plan is." She steps closer, heels sinking into the wet earth. Bits of sunlight peek through the clouds and catch on the thin, red strands of her hair. "Don't you want to succeed, Ryouken? Don't you want to help him?"

He swallows thickly.

Taki sets a hand on his shoulder. "Don't you want to be free of this godliness ... and don't you want Yuusaku to be too?"

"I ... do." He whispers the words, so soft and benign on his cracked lips. He whispers them once more, and Taki's hand squeezes his shoulder.

"Then let's solve the error of our past ways.”


	10. TEN: Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a day late, but chapter is still here - and time to see some of the trio!

Finding the way back onto the road is simple, even in the dark, but once they drive down the same, lonely path leading in and out of the hospital, Yuusaku keeps his eyes peeled for anything suspicious. He thought he was nervous before, driving out to the hospital to find Ryouken, but now he feels terrified, hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles blanch and his muscles creak and groan. He doesn't dare let go of the wheel in case he spots a dangerous vehicle on the horizon, and his eyes remain wider than an owl's and scanning the perimeter.

Nothing suspicious.

After the van drove away and they escaped certain capture, they headed back onto the main strip. It seems unlikely the labcoat-wearing kidnappers will come after them again, but in a strange, makes-no-sense way, Yuusaku  _ does  _ want to see them again. He wants to see them and have them miss seeing him, so that he can follow them to their lair and save Ryouken. No doubt the kidnappers are heading back to their hideout now.

"We don't really know where we're going, do we?" Takeru asks, tucking his knees up to his chin. Of the three of them, he seems the most opposed to kidnapping.

Spectre, on the other hand, seems positively delighted. "We'll know when we find them," he says, bouncing his shoulders up and down. Loudly, he flips through the map in the glovebox, stretching it out over the windshield. Yuusaku swats it away so he can see, but Spectre simply turns it so it covers the side window and mirror.

"Don't worry, I'll keep a lookout."

"You're awfully ... calm," Takeru says, spiting the last word out like bile on his lips.

"We knew they wouldn't like us, so why would there be any difference? Why would I make a big fuss of something I already suspected?"

"Because we almost got  _ kidnapped  _ or  _ killed—" _

"But we were prepared for that, and we didn't." Spectre counts the facts off on his fingers, smile stretching over his pale face. "Besides, that's why I was fighting back, using my powers—y'know, to protect myself instead of cowering the van and counting down my last breaths."

Huffing, Takeru crosses his arms over his chest. "Anyways ... Yuusaku, you know where we're heading?"

He doesn't. They've checked both hospitals, and nowhere else can he imagine would be a suitable place to hide an injured demigod. Of course, Ryouken could always be locked away in a cell in someone's basement, and it would take a dangerous plan to figure out just where the kidnappers lived. A part of him hopes they'll run into one of the labcoated strangers next to the van, and all they'll need to do is knock them out, hold them hostage, and uncover the secrets about the demigod kidnappings. Yet it seems too easy.

Ahead of him stretches the first glimmers of the city. Rather than head directly into the city, he takes a shortcut path around the perimeter. The road snakes from side to side, winding back around green hills and valleys sprouting colour, the likes that could have been found nowhere else in this barren wasteland. Wildflowers bloom in the fertilised earth, catching the evening sun's rays. On the other side of him flows the ocean water. Even in the evening, he spots a dim trail leading out to the middle of the sun—the path back to Link Vrains.

"Do you think they ever close that path?"

Yuusaku peers through the rear-view mirror. Spectre looks  _ far  _ too content with his question, white teeth peeking down from his pink lips. Next to him, Takeru has turned paler than milk.

"We're ... stuck?"

"We're not," Yuusaku says, voice curt. "The path is still there. It's just faint because the sun is glowing down on it."

Still, Takeru presses on. "But what if it  _ can  _ be closed? How ... how do we get home?"

Spectre shrugs his shoulders. "We don't."

"Spectre." The car sways dangerously when he jerks the wheel. Takeru and Spectre bonk heads, both of them wincing. As they rub their heads, Yuusaku says, "Don't joke about rumours like that. We can all see the path is there."

"Maybe," Takeru says, "we should head back home."

"Home?" He means Camp Vrains, Yuusaku knows, but he still feels the need to voice the question. Go home? After what they've uncovered? After knowing what  _ happened?  _ Ryouken and the other child are still locked away by the kidnappers.

"I mean," Takeru says, waving his hands back and forth, "maybe we should, I dunno, get help. Somehow. Ask Ema or Kusanagi or Jin for help with this and tell them what we've uncovered. We ... we have evidence, and knowledge, but ..."

"But you think we can't do it ourselves?" Spectre kicks his feet up on the back of the headrest, sliding his body down so he sits at an uncomfortable angle, feet higher than his head. He rests his head behind his hands and lets out a long, slow breath. "If we tell the camp leaders we  _ broke out  _ of Camp Vrains,  _ went after  _ criminals, and ultimately put ourselves in  _ grave danger,  _ do you really think they're going to listen to us? Do you think they're going to say, 'OK, you return to camp now and we'll handle matters here—’"

"Why not?" Takeru scoffs. "They're there to help us—"

"They're there to  _ protect us,  _ and so if we're in danger, we should—"

"We're in  _ danger."  _ Biting, sharp words fly from Takeru's mouth. "We're in so much trouble, way over our heads—we can't do any worse! We can't dash off after these villains, not without backup."

His fingers clench round the steering wheel. Yuusaku wants to believe in Takeru and the camp leaders. But his mind draws him back to that night in Den City, running away from the labcoated strangers, hanging over the dark, churning waters holding onto the child's hands. Back then, the camp leaders hadn't been able to do a thing; they'd been knocked aside like children's toys. Just how can he expect any adults to bounce back now? How can he expect them to save Ryouken when they already failed?

But at the same time, even he has reservations about kidnapping. Not only dangerous, but illegal too. He's never been fond of following the law when it inconveniences him, but something about kidnapping—doing the same dirty deed as the strangers—sits uncomfortably in his gut. Maybe it's because Spectre seems so keen on following through with the mission.

Carefully, he guides the car along the boardwalk of Stardust Road. At this hour, people mill up and down the pathway on their way home from work. Bright streetlights guide their journey, and the evening sun, the colour of liquid honey, dyes the water golden. The stars, once bright, appear dipped in caramel as small, dark patches in the evening waters. Not a reflection in sight.

The car veers to the side around the large mountain along Stardust Road. Briefly, he tilts his head up the rockside. Made of solid, grey stone, it's surprising no boulders have fallen onto the road. However, the mountain appears sturdier from the other side as it balances a beautiful, waterside villa cut into the rock itself. Were he not looking hard enough, he would have thought the house was simply a strange outcropping in the cliffside, yet fixed into the surface is a door and several windows, most of which overlook the water. He can only imagine the hefty price for this property.

Behind him, he hears Spectre and Takeru still talking away. Neither of them have backed down from the conversation, and even from tuning it out as he travelled past the villa, he finds the two of them still enraptured by the previous conversation.

"I'm just saying, we need help," Takeru says, punctuating each word with an extra huff. His pink face matches the colour of the sunset, his ears redder than tomatoes. Were he an animal, he would have been frothing at the mouth.

Even more frustrating is the fact that Spectre is  _ not,  _ all calm and cool and suave with his hands neatly folded in his lap. Normally the dramatic one of the group, Spectre's calmness only seems to add fuel to Takeru's rage.

"But more help might only hinder us," he says simply.

"That makes  _ no sense,"  _ Takeru says. "Look, we're nearly here. We go back home, regroup, and then return to Den City with the adults. That's an actual  _ plan." _

"Except," Spectre says, holding a single digit up, "that the last time the camp leaders were here, they failed, didn't they? Yuusaku, you were there too. As charitable as our leaders may be, they're no match for our enemies."

A sick feeling churns in his gut, but before he can reply, Takeru snaps.

"And what makes you think any of us can stand up to them?" Hot, angry flushes streak across Takeru's cheeks. No tears, rarely any tears, but sparks zap from his fingertips and bits of his hair begin to singe and sear. Yuusaku knows how emotionally-driven Takeru's powers can be; with the right amount of poking and prodding, Takeru could set the car on fire and blow them all up.

"We've escaped them once—"

"Escaped, not rescued—"

"—so who's to say we can't escape twice, this time with Ryouken? The only reason we don't have Ryouken now is—"

"Because we don't know where he is!" Takeru throws his hands up in the air, and this time small, red embers do rain down on them, singing the seats. "We have no clues, none! We ran out of the camp because we were nervous but we have no leads, no clues, no plans, nothing to help us out! We're just waiting for one of us to be kidnapped, that's what!"

"Then go home."

Yuusaku blinks, eyes fixed on Spectre. Never before has he heard Spectre's voice drop so low. It nearly resembles Ryouken's with the same deep, gravelly pitch.

"W-what?"

"Go home," Spectre repeats. "Back to Camp Vrains, back to safety. Didn't you just tag along for Yuusaku's sake? If you have no reason to be here, then you might as well head back and let me and Yuusaku solve this."

Quickly, Takeru backpedals, tumbling over his words. "No, but, you see—"

"What if the path does close?" Spectre continues, sliding his gaze over to the dim waters. "What if we can't get back?"

"That's impossible," Yuusaku says, crossing his arms over his chest. He pulls the car over to the side of the road, jamming the parking brake on. "Don't make up lies to get him out of here."

"But he doesn't want to be here to begin with. I'm just offering a viable option."

_ Anything but,  _ Yuusaku wants to say, but instead he says, "No, we need to stick together. If we separate, we'll only put ourselves in more danger."

To his surprise, Takeru shakes his head. "But we're in danger out here, Yuusaku. In Den City. We're not supposed to be here anymore, remember. We're supposed to stay in camp. And—and with someone kidnapping demigods, out here we're the next best victims."

"Exactly," Spectre says. "So if you don't want to be here, the best place for you is home."

Panic rises in his chest. They can't separate, can't give up—he can't return home, but he can't leave Takeru or Spectre alone. One way or another, someone will get left behind. One way or another, someone has to give up, give in ...

Ryouken.

If he goes back home with Takeru, game over. He loses his chance to save Ryouken. He'll be trapped in Camp Vrains under the leaders' watchful gazes, never free to wander outside again. The barrier will be closed, unhackable; as strong as his hacking skills are, he knows Kusanagi has broken into government security before. If he wanted Camp Vrains to be impenetrable, he could do it.

"Yuusaku, you can't really ..." Takeru sniffs, bringing a hand up to rub under his red nose. Still no tears, but his entire red, blotchy face tugs at Yuusaku's heartstrings. He would never leave Takeru alone. Never. And especially not to be with Spectre. But ... but the missing children, the lost children ...

"It's your choice," Spectre says, "but I'm staying here to find Ryouken."

"Get help," Yuusaku says at last. He bows his head down, casting long shadows over his eyes. They hide his view of Takeru's red face, lips pulled down in a deep pout. "Tell the camp leaders about us and get them into action. Don't tell them ... what we're doing exactly, but get them to go after Ryouken. Tell them what they need to know to be mobilised and ready to save the missing demigods. Spectre and I will stay here and look too. I'm ..." The words stick in his throat, and thankfully, he never gets them out.

He chokes out a breath when Takeru embraces him in a tight, soul-squeezing hug. His warm arms burn the edges of Yuusaku's clothing, and he feels the zap of electricity between them as his karma powers exchange the burn damage into Takeru. Quickly, they break apart; Yuusaku pats down the singes as Takeru roughly rubs his arms and chest.

"I'm sorry," Takeru says then. He swallows thickly, visibly, and rubs once more at his face. "I'll come back. I promise."

"This isn't a final goodbye," Spectre murmurs into his fist. "Get going already."

Flipping up his middle finger, Takeru slips out of the vehicle and stands at the edge of Stardust Road. Without any board to glide on, he'll have to walk all the way to the centre of the sun where the secret passage lies. Every fibre in Yuusaku's body dreads Takeru's plan. Someone will seem him, someone will kidnap him. He'll expose the passage into the camp. And yet he can't stop Takeru as he leaps down the cliffside and lands on the starry path. Even at this hour, a faint, yellowy-milky trail swerves out to the sunset.

"He'll be fine," Spectre says. "Let's go."

Yuusaku holds the wheel steady, fingers locked on the keys. Not until Takeru gets further onto the water. Not until he knows he's safe.

When Takeru makes it out into the middle of the path, just a small, black speck among the golden water, Yuusaku turns on the car engine and drives away. Spectre flips up the giant map up once more and holding it across the windshield. Weakly, Yuusaku swats it away.

"You're much more a worrier than I thought," Spectre says.

Yuusaku chews on his lip. Engaging Spectre only provokes a lengthier, mind-dragging conversation. If he had a choice of who to ditch, it wouldn't have been Takeru.

"Besides, now we know the car won't spontaneously combust. I thought we were going to be charred meat during that chase."

He guides the car through the city, down the narrow roads between residential buildings and small, mom-and-pop shops. Out here, the city has only begun to grow, and few grand-scale, sky-scraping buildings exist. However, Yuusaku recognises this area well. This was where he, Kusanagi, and Jin watched for the kid. He spots the school building on the corner, and the park just down at the end of the road. Fear clenches his chest as he remembers watching the child turn down the wrong path, get stopped by the wrong people.

"Yuusaku, geez!"

Spectre snatches the wheel out of his hands and jerks it to the side. His head smacks into the side window, stars popping across his vision. He hears the tires turn, and Spectre mutter out a curse, before he can see the road again.

"Watch where you're driving," Spectre says. "Nearly hit a pedestrian, and we don't need that sort of crime on our records."

Acid burns in his stomach. Does Spectre always have to say things so crudely?

At the next parking lot, he turns in and pulls the car into an empty stall at the far end of the lot. He lets the engine run a moment longer before he clicks it off and slumps forward in the seat. The park is across from them; the school down the road. This entire area sends off terrible warning bells in his head.

"You look like you're going to be sick.”

"Fine," Yuusaku mutters, shaking his head to rid away the thick, choking fog. "We need to think of a plan."

"Plan?"

"Where to lure the strangers to. Takeru had a solid idea: we can't just wander around the city and wait to be kidnapped. We need the element of surprise on our side, so ..." He motions for Spectre's map, and when Spectre only stares blankly back at him, he pulls it across the windshield, tucking the corners behind the sun protectors, flattening the paper out so that it fills up the entire window. "We need to think of where they might be."   
  
A slow smile spreads across Spectre's face, the look of a predator eagerly awaiting the hunt. "We shouldn't go looking for their hideout as there could be more inside. Best if we find a single person, or the van."   
  
"There were two of them in the van," Yuusaku says. He remembers well: the red-haired woman and the blue-haired man. The green-haired man he'd spotted in the hospital was on the D-Board. He counts off the three people for Spectre on his fingers, then says, "They're the only three I've seen hunting demigods."   
  
"So we can't rule out there are others, but most likely we'll kidnap one of those three. Will any of them do?"   
  
The easy answer would be 'yes,' but Yuusaku wracks his brain for more clues. Maybe Takeru was right and they are underprepared for this attack. Yet ... yet a burning flame in his chest tells him that he can't back down and return home. He can't give up when lives are at stake.    
  
He can't leave Ryouken alone with those kidnappers.   
  
"Anyone will do," he says. "We should look for the van."   
  
"They'll be looking for us, won't they?" Spectre says. His smile widens, eyes crinkling at the corners. Framed by long, dark lashes, his blue eyes pop in the fading sunlight. "Why don't we lay a trap for them?"   
  
"We can't—"   
  
"We can't find them without exposing ourselves, and besides, they're probably already on the lookout for us. Remember, they saw us all at the hospital."

Still, Yuusaku shakes his head. "If we put ourselves in danger—"

"How else were you planning on getting their attention?" Gone is Spectre's laughter, his mirth and joy and teasing smirk. His tone, healthily deep, has reached the same, low baritone as before, echoing Ryouken's commanding voice. On Spectre's lips, the voice sounds haunting.

Yuusaku plants his feet down on the car floor, folding his white hands in his lap. "We're right by a park, and these kidnappers are preying on teenagers. If we wait around here ..."

"They're bound to show up? Don't you think they're looking for  _ us?" _

He blinks.

"They know we're in the city. They're looking for  _ us  _ specifically, not just any demigod wandering the block. I know it—we're special to them! And so if we lure them, we're sure to catch them here and trap them."

Anxiety bubbles in his stomach like a witch's brew. "How do you expect ..."

"To find Ryouken any other way? I don't. Yuusaku, this is the only way to get Ryouken back."

The only way. Shards of glass pinch his weak heart. As much as he dislikes Ryouken, it hurts even more to know that he's been taken away by those people.

"Speaking of that ..." Spectre leans forward, bracing his arms on the dashboard. A single, slim finger scratches at his cheek, just underneath his curved eyes. "How come you want to save Ryouken so badly? It's not like the two of your are buddy-buddy or anything."

"He was kidnapped," Yuusaku says simply. "I'd want to save anyone."

He expects Spectre to buy it, or at least to entertain the thought for a few moments. Instead, Spectre grins at him like a cat gleaming over its prey, and says, "But Ryouken isn't just anyone—you two are like oil and water. Heck, you can't even be in the same room together."

"I'm not doing it on purpose, you know."

"But you're still doing something."

He shifts in his seat, drawing his knees up to his chest. The evening sun has dripped down past the clouds, and a thick darkness hangs in the air. A weak strip of moonlight catches on the metal lamp posts, but most of the area has been hidden away by the nighttime air. It would be dangerous to even leave the  _ car  _ at this hour. At the same time, Yuusaku feels a sense of ease settle over him. If the strangers come, they'll have lights on their D-Board. He'll recognise them ... unless they try to jump him with the element of surprise.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a single, green vine slip through a patch of lamppost light. Yellow light catches on the green stem, punctuated in places with small, velvety leaves. The vine moves like a garden snake across the trail—only to be followed by another one, and then another.

Yuusaku glares at Spectre.

"I'm laying a trap," he says with a shrug of his shoulders. "If anyone steps a  _ toe  _ into this parking lot, my magic will alert me to their presence. I'll snatch them up and drag them over, and then I'll leave you to do the interrogating. Sounds fair, don't you think?"

Unfortunately, it does. Spectre's abilities provide both the best offensive and defensive potential, and with his superb control over them, there's no chance of error. If someone does try to ambush them, they'll only be yanked to the ground, bound, and dragged towards the car for them to interrogate. It's almost cruel how gifted Spectre is: no cursed abilities, no faulty challenges, no terrible consequences. He showed up at the camp having already mastered his abilities; the only reason he  _ remained  _ at Camp Vrains was because he was terrorising normal humans with his powers.

"Don't you think?" Spectre presses, nudging him with his shoulder.

"Fine," Yuusaku says.

They lapse into silence, punctuated by their breaths and mumbles. Spectre flicks the map open once more and begins to draw on various places. Yuusaku kicks his feet up on the dashboard and leans back. He makes himself as still and calm as possible even when his heart leaps into his throat at the slightest click or tap. The outside world, he realises, is terrifyingly loud. Everything goes bump in the night when you think hard enough about it.

Time drags too. He checks his duel disk's digital watch first every couple minutes, then every minute, and finally every few seconds. He watches the big hand click around the circle until, even when he lifts his head and closes the disk, he hears the gentle click of the hand and the flickering motion in the corners of his eyes.

Spectre's words draw him from his thoughts: "Someone's coming."

Every hair stands on end. Over the noise of every other creature and critter outside, Yuusaku doesn't hear a sound. But he sees Spectre sit up in his seat, the moonlight glinting off his pointed canines.

"They're heading to the parking lot," he whispers.

"Can you ..." Get them, he wants to say. Capture the kidnapper so they can learn properly just what is going on.

"They're out of range." An unintelligible grumble, and then: "Damn it, why are they walking the other way?"

"Hm?"

"Someone's out there and they probably know the vines are there, probably know we're demigods too ... and they're walking the other way."

"To avoid you?"

Spectre clicks off his seatbelt with another growl and pushes the door open. "Who knows," he says, but Yuusaku misses the rest of the words when he lunges to close the door.

"Relax," Spectre says—

"This—this wasn't part of the plan—"

"I'm just going to see," Spectre says, shaking him off. "Geez, no need to be so panicky."

This seems like the perfect reason to panic. Jiggling the handle, Yuusaku throws himself outside into the frigid, night air. It hasn't been long since he said goodbye to Takeru at the boardwalk, and already the temperature has dropped to below-zero. Mist billows from between his cracked lips. Bits of moonlight catch on the pink strands of his bangs. Ahead of him, Spectre glows like a mystic, ethereal creature. Space stations can probably see him from their orbit.

"You said—"

"Sh." Spectre spins around, pressing a finger to his lips. His eyes dart from side to side. Yuusaku can't hear a single, discerning sound, but what he does hear reminds him of the last noises prey must hear before they're eaten alive. Someone is out here looking for them. Someone outside of range, but who any minute could charge into the parking lot. Would Spectre's vines snatch them up in time?

A vine rubs against his shoe, lightly touching his leg. No doubt Spectre can feel his unease too. Yuusaku keeps his lips pressed together, eyes darting from side to side.

_ Snap! _

Something, or someone, hits the floor. Yuusaku hardly has a chance to leap out of the way before the same something comes barreling down the parking lot, vines toppling over each other like a great, green wave. In the darkness, the vines look more like choking tendrils, and no doubt they are choking their enemy as they cling and wrap around the mound. Yuusaku holds his breath as the enemy approaches, growing larger—

Spectre lets out a whoop of joy. "Caught ya!"

With no time to ask who or what or even why, Yuusaku's eyes narrow at the squirming figure inside the vines. They must be an adult, no doubt, and one of the researchers too. His heart hammers in his chest. Which one did they capture? All of them seem particularly threatening in their own, horrifying way.

"Now," Spectre says, sliding a finger between the vines. "Let's get this off you, shall we?" He hooks a finger into the tentacled mass and extracts a single, grey disk—Ryouken's D-Board. "How come you've got this with you?"

The mass says nothing, enveloping itself in more and more vines squirming over each other like maggots on a carcass. He spots the vines stemming from Spectre's toes. Each vine moves on its own accord, none of them straggling to the sides. The control. The precision. Spectre's powers make him weak at the knees.

"Let's get a good look at you, don't you think?" Once more, Spectre hooks a hand between the vines. They break away at his touch, slipping back to reveal the toadish face of the green-haired man. His mopish hair hangs over his short, sallow face, cheeks drooping, eyes lidded. Spectre taps the stranger behind the ears and under the chin for any microphones or electrical devices, the sorts of spy technology Yuusaku would only expect in fiction novels. Then again, these kidnappings remind him of events he would hope only happened in fiction.

"You know him?" Spectre asks.

Yuusaku nods his head.

The stranger presses his lips together, eyes narrowed.

"Well, now what?" Bouncing his shoulders, Spectre taps the stranger's greasy hair. "Should we make him talk?" He walks his fingers across the stranger's shoulders, right up to his chin. He presses a finger into the thin, sensitive area of his neck, right under the jaw. As if he pinched a nerve, the stranger's face tightens, growing paler and sweatier.

"How about you tell us where Ryouken is," Spectre says. "How about that?"


	11. ELEVEN: Aid

The entire walk back to Camp Vrains feels wrong. Too lonely, too quiet, too painfully long as he heads down the milky trail towards the drooping sun. At this hour, the water has become a dusty yellow, golden around the path, and the stars look more like milk-chocolate drops floating in liquid. When he dips his fingers into the water, he finds it thin and salty, not the syrupy texture or sweet taste he was expecting. It's almost disappointing to walk down the golden path back to safety and security, all the while knowing Spectre and Yuusaku are staying in the city to hunt down the perpetrator. If he wasn't horrified with their plan, he'd turn tail and run back to help them ...

But his feet remain firmly planted on the path taking sturdy steps back to the secret passage. The dim sun catches from time to time in his bleary eyes, and so he holds his head down and watches the water swirl along the pathway. The lenient laps along the walkway ebb his pounding heart, and he matches his breaths to the tide; in and out, slow and steady. If he closed his eyes, he could walk all the way to the centre of the ocean and through the portal without falling off. How they had such a bumpy trip out here, he'll never know.

Halfway across the path, he glances over his shoulder. The city shines back at him, all bright, artificial lights and tall, shadowy buildings. Even though the city rests beyond the quiet suburbs nearest Stardust Road, the gargantuan buildings remain the centrepiece of his vision. In rainy weather, the tops of the skyscrapers must tickle the clouds. The only other structure as large as the skyscrapers, and then barely reaching the littlest of the towers, is the mountain. It sits off to the side like a silent guardian of the city, with only a single light emitted from its surface: the house on the mountainside. Some posh person must live there, he imagines. A recluse perhaps, or a benevolent samaritan hiding away in their rocky nook.

It almost seems like the sort of place  _ Yuusaku  _ would want to live in.

Just as Takeru tears his eyes away from the sight of the tower, he spots a second, smaller glow floating along the side of the building, coming from an opening in the rock—a growing opening too, appearing the sight of a creature's maw. Takeru stops walking and stares out across the water. Just how did someone fit a secret passageway into the mountainside? The only option that makes sense is that the owner or the house built that entrance, and yet no average human should be able to chisel their way through solid stone. It must have taken the owner  _ years  _ to build that.

Even from across the ocean, Takeru sees the mountain's mouth open up and spit out a single, grey car out onto the water. Breath catches in his throat—with no road, the car will only sink to the bottom like a child's toy in the bathwater. And yet the car miraculously floats through the tepid air, first dipping down towards the water and then skimming along the golden surface. Ripples cast themselves in every direction as the flying car moves across the water, straight at ...

Him.

He must look like quite the sight, he realises, standing out in the middle of the ocean. If any normal human saw him, they'd probably rub their eyes and imagine they saw a trick of light. But this car moves with steady precision right for him.

He  _ runs,  _ legs kicking behind him, courage thrown to the wind. Every muscle in his body screams as he rushes across the path. Were he Yuusaku or Spectre, he would have stopped to fight, only Takeru knows his powers, as strong as they may be, are as temperamental as the weather. Flames flicker at his heels as his emotions run amuck in his mind.

_ If I keep running, will I only lead them to the others, to the camp? _

For all he knows, the kidnappers know the location of the camp. But to bring them right up to the front door sounds not only foolish but naive, putting everyone in more danger.

Out of the corner of his eye, the car advances, gaining on him. Even with his strong legs from years of martial arts practice, outrunning a car would be impossible for anyone but a child of Apollo or Nike.

But a child of Hephaestus, a child of fire—

He swings around, swiping his arm out. He expects flames to pour from his palms, fire to burst from his pores as if he is a great, flaming serpent.

Only the barest, briefest spittle of flame topples from the tip of his finger.

"Eh?" he squeaks. He snaps his arm out again, only this time no sparks, not even the single ember, appear.

The car closes the gap between them. One minute he feels cold air on his cheeks, sees the golden water around him and the secret passage just a stone's throw away—and the next minute he feels water on his cheeks as he flies through the air, knocked off his feet by the force of the car. Head over heels he flies into the water, landing with a loud  _ kerplop!  _ in the honey-coloured ocean. No longer does the water feel thin and slippery, but rather thick and choking as it tugs him towards the centre of the earth. His legs feel encased in jelly so, even when he kicks away, he sinks further and further towards the bottom.

By sheer luck, someone snatches him up, someone with long, built arms and red, spiked hair. She plucks him from the water like a coin from a fountain.

By sheer luck, fire bursts around him. He doesn't expect it nor wish it, but he appreciates the sizzle down his arms, evaporating the water around him and  _ burning  _ the kidnapper holding onto his shirt collar. She lets go with a screech before plunging her seared hand into the ocean. Takeru doesn't wait for her next action: he leaps away, off the board that she pulled him onto, and lands on the hard, milky passageway to Camp Vrains.

It doesn't matter if he leads her to danger now—he needs to find shelter.

As fast as his legs can carry him, he charges down the path. The whirl of the car's motor advances, hot on his heels. He doesn't dare look over his shoulder in case he sees her, arm outstretched, reaching for his shirt, his arm, anything to grab him by.

The portal waits for him like a guardian with open arms. Takeru lunges into the embrace, falling through the hidden barrier. Bright light assaults his vision and he lands on the cold floor with his vision blurry and his head spinning. Yet at all once, the world is silent. No engine motor, no harsh wind, no one calling after him. He can't even hear his own breath in here, and judging by his hammering heart and gasping lungs, he should hear  _ something.  _ The tunnel remains barren and brooding. Quickly, Takeru lifts his head to investigate.   
  
He fell through the portal, thankfully, and wound up on the dirty tunnel floor. Dirt smears litter his pants and the sides of his t-shirt, particularly from where he slid across the ground. Behind him, the passageway entrance is blocked by a thin, albeit semi-opaque, barrier made of the same, golden liquid in the water. It shimmers from the casting sunlight, but Takeru sees it, clear as day, blocking the way of the red-haired kidnapper.   
  
Safe, his mind tells him. He's safe.   
  
The sight of the kidnapper startles him though, and even with the knowledge that this stranger can't get to him, his legs backpedal him further down the tunnel until separating them are several solid metres. Only then does he exhale properly and let the stress fizzle out of him.   
  
Safe. He's still safe.   
  
Once the stranger realises that he's crossed the barrier, and that she herself can't, she turns and heads back across the water in the hovering car. Takeru watches her leave with wide eyes, and he follows her movements until he can no longer see the speck of black floating over the ocean.   
  
Then his mind springs to action. First, that someone saw him—that someone saw him and that, without even spotting his powers, knew he was a demigod. This kidnapper probably recognised him as a demigod from Camp Vrains, much in the same way someone would have recognised Ryouken. But then that raises another question in his spinning mind: if the kidnappers couldn't get into Link Vrains, how did Ryouken get kidnapped? He, Yuusaku, and Spectre all left the safety of the camp under the assumption that Ryouken had been kidnapped, much in the same way the child was kidnapped on Yuusaku's failed rescue mission—and yet all along, perhaps Ryouken simply left on his own volition.   
  
Back then, the idea would have sounded impossible. A demigod would never be able to leave the camp. But now the idea sits in his mind, refusing to budge from any thought he throws its way. As a child of Athena, Ryouken is intelligent beyond his teenage years and incredibly preceptive, skillful, and strategic. If anyone could sneak out of the camp, it would have been him—and didn't Spectre say that he and Ryouken found the vehicles? All Ryouken would have had to do was hardwire a D-Board and soar out of the camp. He would have found the secret passageway and headed out along Stardust Road, back into Den City.   
  
Possible. It's more possible than any other theory his mind can conjure up.   
  
Still, the thoughts sit sickly in his gut. Knowing Ryouken left does nothing to bring him back home, and now the kidnappers are out there looking for all three of them, all the while now knowing the passage to Camp Vrains. One step forward, three steps back. He feels like he's playing the worst game of chess, and he's not even a skilled gamer to begin with.   
  
Grumbling, he pulls himself up onto weak, shaky legs. The adrenaline from the chase has long since ebbed out of his veins, replaced by a heavy tiredness pressing down on his shoulder, forcing him back to the ground. He feels like he could sleep the rest of the year away. What keeps him walking down the passageway is the mission: get to the camp leaders. Even knowing that the kidnappers are after them and that Ryouken snuck out, he knows the four of them are way over their heads in this madness. Involving the camp leaders seems like the only safe solution at this point, else they risk getting caught by the kidnappers and taken to ...   
  
The house.   
  
The car left from the cavern's maw, and no doubt connected to the mountaintop house. If the kidnappers weren't hiding Ryouken in either of the hospitals, would they have taken him to their hideout? To the house?   
  
His fingers itch the corners of his jacket. He can't tell Yuusaku, not before telling Kusanagi and Jin.    
  
At the other end of the tunnel streams dark clouds muted by the soft starlight hanging around the camp. Nighttime has never looked more peaceful than tonight; a lull floats through the islands, and from top to bottom the camp appears caught in a deep sleep. Not a single demigod wandering around, not a single D-Board in sight. He stiffens at the edge of the barrier.   
  
Carefully, he passes a toe through the electric screen. Then another. Then an arm. And finally, he steps through the barrier and into Camp Vrains. If he tripped a switch and alerted the camp leaders to his arrival, he'll never know until he sees the lights flying towards him. But for a moment longer, he stands at the edge of the barrier, toes curled over the bit of reddish dirt on the platform. It must blend into the painted sun on the camp's wall, and in the darkness, he must be invisible.   
  
In the distance, he spots a set of glowing lights, a pair of yellow eyes, coming towards him. He holds himself steady at the edge of the platform; if he jumps to escape, he'll only tumble to the bottom of the camp. Palms sweaty, he rubs away the fire on his fingertips as the lights grow larger. The hotdog van has come to greet him, and through the clean windshield, he spots Jin and Kusanagi. Jin looks enthralled to see him, but Kusanagi wears a stern expression enunciated by the thick, purple stubble of his chin. He doesn't spot Ema hanging off the van anywhere, or following them on her motorbike. Is she waiting back at the cabins for him?   
  
The van parks on the platform with a soft puff from the engines. Jin and Kusanagi exit the vehicle, and no sooner has Jin closed the door does he rush forward to embrace Takeru in his arms. Though the same height, Jin's hugs still overpower him and knock the air from his lungs. He feels wrapped in a thick, weighted blanket, and gratefully Takeru sinks towards the ground. Jin's strong arms hold him up.   
  
"Thank goodness," he breathes. "Thank goodness you made it home."   
  
Weakly, he chuckles, giving Jin one last squeeze before stepping back. Kusanagi makes no such moves forward, at least not until Takeru has his chin tucked to his chest.    
  
A warm hand settles on his shoulders.   
  
"Made it back, kiddo?"   
  
"Somehow," he says. A thick stone settles in his throat. "But ... the others ..."   
  
"Let's get you home first," Jin says, taking him by the shoulders and guiding him towards the van. Takeru slips into the middle seat, and soon after grunts as Jin and Kusanagi squish in on either side of him. For a three-seater, the front seats are ... cosy.   
  
Kusanagi pats him on the head once and then guides the car back down towards Camp Vrains.   
  
"You can tell us everything in a moment," Jin says, just as Takeru opens his mouth to speak. "I'd like you to take a couple deep breaths first and compose yourself before you talk. Don't worry, Kusanagi and I will be here to listen to you."   
  
Takeru nods despite every inch of his being feeling ready to word-vomit his thoughts and feelings. He has so much to say that he feels himself panting as they draw nearer to the leader's cabin, nestled among the demigod cabins on the main island of the camp. At this hour, not a single demigod is awake, and the camp feels eerie and abandoned. A single, oil lamp hangs next to the cabin door, slight ajar with warm light spilling through the crack. Ema must be awake then, he imagines.   
  
As soon as the hotdog truck lands, Takeru hurries out of his seat. He has so much to tell them that he worries he'll lose it all once he makes it through the front door. Unfortunately, Jin and Kusanagi have other plans: they mosey into the cabin, taking off their outer coats and shoes. Jin heads into the kitchen to boil the kettle, and Kusanagi guides Takeru by his shoulder to the couch nestled among the video game cables and bookcases. The entire space is cramped, and for three camp leaders, he expected a roomier, sizeable living space. This cabin looks no bigger than the bunking areas demigods sleep in.   
  
Gently, Kusanagi pushes him down into the lumpy couch. Just as Takeru tries to stand, mouth open to blurt out his discoveries, Jin comes round with a steaming mug of tea that he passes to Takeru.    
  
"Drink," Jin says, cutting his next words off.   
  
"But I—"   
  
"Drink." This time, Ema says it. She sits across from him the bed in the corner, legs crossed at the knees. For the late hour, she still wears her crisp, purple and black track suit that she often teaches demigods in; the only change is her hair pulled up into a high ponytail on the crown of her head. Pink bangs frame her narrow face.   
  
Wordlessly, he drinks.   
  
As if that were the magic cue to bring them together, Jin and Kusanagi settle down around him; Jin on the couch and Kusanagi leaning against the wall next to Ema's bed. The three adults in the room stare at him as if he's grown a third head, and Takeru wonders if now—finally now—he can speak.   
  
He finds the words catching on his tongue. All this time, he's been ready to spew the details over the leaders whether they wanted the information or not, but now he finds himself challenging his thoughts, forgetting his words. Fingers clench round the cup in his hands. How—how can he not say—after all this time—   
  
Jin's gentle hand settles along his shoulders.   
  
"We're here."

He melts under the touch, and as if the feelings of the past couple days have surfaced in one, swelling wave, he sobs. Once. A note catching in his throat, low and mournful. He feels his body bend into itself like a folding chair, growing smaller the stiller he becomes. Not a single word rises to his chapped lips. Nothing.

With the gentleness of a parent, Jin tucks him up against his side. Another sob swells in his throat, and Takeru buries his face in the soft, cotton fabric of Jin's pyjama top. Thick tears spill down his cheeks and soil the fabric, but if Jin cares, he doesn't voice the concern. He holds Takeru against him until the sobs cease and he takes a long, deep sip from his mug.

Tea was a good choice, he thinks. It warms him to the core, and slowly he takes a couple steady breaths.

'They're still in Den City," he blurts out. The first words, the first thoughts—he needs to tell them before he forgets how to speak.

Jin nods his head; Ema and Kusanagi simply sip from their own mugs, gazes even.

"Who are 'they'?" Jin asks.

"Yuusaku and Spectre ... they're still looking for Ryouken."

"So you four didn't escape at once?"

He shakes his head. "The three of us did; we went looking for Ryouken after we knew he disappeared."

Kusanagi clears his throat with a sharp cough, and Takeru stiffens. As kind as Kusanagi can be, he's firmer than Jin when it comes to rule-breaking, and between the two of them, he'd much rather listen to Jin's soft voice that Kusanagi's rough tone. No matter how much Yuusaku says about Kusanagi being a 'good role model,' Takeru always found him a bit too critical.

"How did you three leave the camp?"

"Through the secret passageway ... sir."

"Where we found you?"

"Yes, sir."

A heavy sigh through his nose. Takeru folds his hands in his lap and stares down at the digits. Whenever he's burnt down trees or exploded patches of the training fields, Kusanagi has always reprimanded him with firm conversation. This conversation feels even more tense.

A rule that should never have been broken.

"Where did you go?" Ema asks.

A blink. He expected an interrogation from Jin and Kusanagi, half-brothers as well as camp leaders. He's rarely spoken with Ema before beyond training classes, and seeing her sitting on the bed like a throne, garbed as a goddess, Takeru feels even more uneasy.

"To look for Ryouken, ma'am."

_ "Where  _ exactly?"

"At the park."

"The truth, please."

He nearly leaps from the seat.

Quickly, Ema speaks up, "I can tell when someone lies, Takeru, even a demigod. We are here to listen and help, but none of us can do our job if you don't tell us what truly happened. Now." She folds her hands on her lap. "Did you go to any of the schools?"

"... yes."

"A lie again."

_ Shit.  _ He bites his lip. Yuusaku told him not to lie, but then how can he tell Ema part of the truth, the truth that she needs to know rather than the truth she  _ wants  _ to know. Sweat slicks over his pink palms.

"We went to the hospital ... after we learnt that Ryouken was injured in an accident."

He awaits her disapproval, but no such reprimand comes, not even from Jin or Kusanagi. The three adults sit at attention, waiting for him to continue.

"And after we didn't find him at the hospital, I went home."

"Do they know you left?"

He nods. "They both want to keep looking for Ryouken."

Jin's warm hand settles once more on his shoulder, and Takeru gratefully sinks into the embrace. The entire cabin feels tense and nigh-unbearable, with so many pairs of eyes focused on him. He struggles to maintain eye contact with Ema and Kusanagi, and in the end he keeps his gaze down at his lukewarm tea. If he doesn't look at them, they won't be able to tell the secrets he's hiding.

"Why did you come home?" Kusanagi asks.

Takeru's eyes widen. Why—

Quickly, Kusanagi raises an apologetic hand. "Sorry, poorly worded. What I mean to say is, how come only you went home? Was this a decision the three of you made together, or did you come back on your own volition?"

"On my own," he says, clenching his hands together. "They wanted to find Ryouken."

"And you?" Ema says. "What did you want to do?"

"Find ... you."

"Because?"

"Because ..." Heart hammering in his chest, he swallows. "Because I knew you could help us. Somehow. In some way. You must be looking for us too—the missing demigods and those of us that escaped, if you knew that. You must have. So I thought, if I returned, I could ... help."

Neither of the camp leaders speak up. He shifts back and forth in his seat, impatience gnawing at his mind. Do they have to stare so schemingly as they think? All three of them seem like they're plotting his demise. When at last someone does speak up, he lets out a sigh of relief: Jin. He can listen to Jin.

"Thank you, Takeru, for coming to us with these concerns. We've been extremely concerned over the loss of our demigods, and so it is relieving to hear that not everyone missed was kidnapped. Nonetheless, leaving camp is dangerous, especially at this time. I'll be talking with you later about such topics, but for now ..." He sighs and the entire room softens, lights dimming, couch creaking under their weight—as if the entire world paused and took a deep breath. Takeru rubs at his eyes. Just when did he start feeling so tired?

"I think it's time we all retired for the night, else our dreams are plagued by curses and demons."

Charming, Takeru thinks, but the words stick to his tired tongue. He drags himself upright. Woozy, he stumbles, only to be caught by one of Kusanagi's strong, rough hands.

"I'll guide you back to your cabin," he says.

"W-wait." He clears his throat, focusing his mind over the sleepy haze that has settled over him. "Wait. You have to promise me that ... that you'll take me with you."

"Hm?" Ema says, cupping her face in her hand.

"That when you rescue them—Yuusaku and Spectre and Ryouken and the others—that you take me with you."

Kusanagi pats a hand on his shoulder, leading him closer to the door. His feet stumble and catch on the patterned rugs spread around the cabin. He makes it to the edge of the door before he hears an answer, mumbled into the fog of the room.

"Off to bed, Takeru."

He doesn't feel his head hit his pillow when he arrives, safe and sound, back in his cabin.


	12. TWELVE: Project Origin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i've realised why i've been having such a difficult time updating this fic weekly: my weekly postings are too close together ;w; so next week and from then onward, the new chapter will appear on Thursday. thank you for understanding! <3  
> EDIT: sorry for no chapter last week. there will not be an update this week (21 Feb) as i am moving ;w;

Without any clocks or calendars in his room, Ryouken has never known what time of day it truly is. Both Taki and Genome answer such questions when he asks them, but for all he knows they could be lying to him; after all, he'd have no way of knowing. The times that he has gone outside have given him little indication beyond whether the sun is rising or setting, and the air, while crisp, does not lend itself to any particular season. An itch in his mind says he's been here for more than a month, but Taki fervently argues that he's been here little more than a week.

Frustrating. In Camp Vrains, he would have been able to check his duel disk on the fly, or could have gone outside and easily distinguished the day, month, and possibly even year. Here, he feels caught in a strange limbo, trapped in a casing of jelly.

Nonetheless, with some sly deduction, he gathers some clues. In the morning, Taki brings him breakfast. He knows it's morning time when his first meal arrives because, not only does she bring porridge and orange juice, but the faint smell of her breath reminds him of spearmint toothpaste. From there, he has counted down the minutes and hours until his next meal: four hours later for lunch time. Midday meals vary, but Taki often brings him rice or salad bowls, accompanied by finger sandwiches cut into small triangles. Then comes dinner, five hours later and often featuring extravagant dishes of soups and salads, heavy rice and noodle dishes, and the occasional dessert. Jokingly, he's told her he feels like a royal prince.

Yet as kind as the gestures may be, he keeps a sharp watch on her movements and intentions. After finding himself exhausted on the third day after his dinner, he stopped drinking the water she gave him; when she was watching, he'd hold it in his mouth, only to spit it down the toilet when she left the room. Since then, his head has been clearer and his mind sharper.

Drugs. This strange, hospital facility was administering drugs, despite Taki assuring him on numerous occasions that he was only undergoing physical therapy.

Ryouken also keeps watch on the other doctors. While Taki spends the most time with him, he sees Genome at least once per day for physical therapy sessions. They work on flexing and bending his muscles, both with and without equipment. Whenever he leaves his room, he gazes down the hallways, looking for any open doors or secret passageways that might offer a clue as to where he's wound up in Camp Vrains. However, the only rooms he ever sees are his own and the gym room, and then the expansive courtyard outside of the hospital. At least once per week, he heads outside to ride the D-Board. Genome and Taki watch him, but neither seem anxious when he skirts out of bounds or performs complex tricks.

If they were watching him so closely, wouldn't they stop him? Wouldn't they be more coddling, overprotective doctors?

All throughout the week, he counts the days with scratches on the panellings underneath his bed. Count the days, figure out how long he's been here. Make sure to never lose track of time.

At the end of the week though, something peculiar happens. The day starts off simple enough: Taki comes in the morning to serve him breakfast and check his vitals. She reads out the daily agenda, interspersing it with polite, cheery small-talk which Ryouken half-listens to as he slurps oatmeal from his spoon. Once breakfast is complete, she whisks him off to his physical therapy lessons with Genome, who takes him back to his room once it's complete.

"Dr. Taki will be right down with lunch," he says. "Please wait for her."

Ryouken expects this—the same routine happens every day here.

What he doesn't expect is Taki not showing up twenty minutes later. Though Genome never specified the exact time she would appear, Ryouken knows she would never keep him waiting. The routine is always the same: physical therapy first, and lunch right after. Plus he saw her this morning. As likely as it might be for her to have become engrossed by her work, he supposes  _ he  _ is her work. She's never been late before, not in all their time here.

Quietly, he taps his foot to the floor, face cradled in one long, smooth hand. A twinge of hunger gnaws at his belly—therapy today was ruthless and he was quite looking forward to a hearty meal.

After what feels like ten minutes longer, he presses his ear to the door. Through the thick wood, he hears only a dull humming, not the thumping footsteps of anyone approaching. At this time, Genome would be completing physical therapy with the other demigods at the hospital; the ones Ryouken has never seen no matter how much he hears about them. Calling for Genome would be impossible; without a phone, he can only bang his hands on the door and hope someone hears him.

Never, ever before has Taki been late.

A dark feeling settles in his chest like a lead stone. Did something happen to her? She has been busy these past couple days, occasionally leaving just after serving him and saying, "Duty calls." But to forget? Impossible. Something must have happened to her.

Sighing, he begins to pace the room. Ten steps vertically and twelve steps horizontally; a nearly-perfect square room whose walls glare back at him as if forcing him to sit. Ryouken wanders with his shoulder and ear pressed to the wall, listening for the noise of anyone on the other side. He mutters a tune too, loud enough so that, if anyone else had their ear pressed to the wall, they would hear him too. But he completes two laps around the perimeter of the room, and not once does someone knock or shout back at him.

His eyes slide up to where the wall meets the ceiling. When he first came here, and once he was able to move around, he searched the space for hidden cameras—little flecks in corners, small wires weaved between books or blankets. He's never found a single hidden device, and yet a part of him still hopes that Taki tapped the room.

"Dr. Taki," he says aloud, pacing the room once more. "Are you coming today?"

Not a sound.

Again: "Dr. Taki?"

Not even Genome's footsteps, which he has come to learn sound quite louder despite the man's short stature.

He huffs out a breath and settles back down on the bed. On cue, he begins to count—seconds, then minutes, until half an hour has slipped by. By that point, Taki's absence can no longer be an accident or a slow start to the afternoon. She must have forgotten about him.

During his time in the room, Ryouken has done more than lie around and sleep. He's examined every inch of the space to discern just where he's wound up. He's searched for hidden cameras and wires, but also cracks in the room or any open space that he or someone else could fit a piece of paper through. In his room, he's found no weapons or tools; nothing more than his bed and his bookcase bolted into the wall.

Bolts.

He stretches up to the bookcase, fingering the metal braces holding it into the wall. On his first day with a clear head, after he learnt that there were no cameras spying on him, he spent all night untwisting the screw from the brace. The bookcase hadn't fallen on his head, and he'd replaced the screw as if nothing had happened. Now, Ryouken unscrews it with nimble fingers and plucks the metal, L-shaped bracket off the wall. He tosses if from hand to hand, noting the thin, albeit stiff, metal embezzled with various holes.

Then he shoves it between the door and the wall and pulls. A groan echoes through the room, loud enough that, if Taki were around, she'd come running. But by this point, if someone comes after him, it'll only be a relief. He continues to wedge the bracket into the space, twisting, pulling, prying the door from the frame until at last it sides to the side on well-oiled hinges.

A smile stretches over his face. He tucks the bracket in the waistband of his cotton pants—comfort wear from the hospital, though not as sheer and breezy as the usual attire. If he needs to pry open another door, the tool will come in handy. Then he pads down the hallway in his socked feet. He jiggles the handles of each doorway he comes across; by this point, finding anyone will be a blessing more than a curse. However, every door he comes across is locked, and without a single window to peer through, he can only assume this entire hospital is empty.

He remembers the path he, Taki, and Genome take out to the yard, so he follows that trail, keeping one ear pricked for any footsteps. He refuses to make excuses for her; she should be working and taking care of him. Yet, to his unfortunate surprise, the courtyard remains as empty as the hospital, with the blue sky and star-speckled sea staring back at him. Each time he gazes out at the water, he sees a slightly different, albeit no less beautiful, image. If he had a choice, he'd sleep on the soft, green grassy mountainside overlooking the waterside instead of his sterile hospital room.

He half-expects Taki and Genome to startle him out here, yet when he glances over his shoulder, the barren hallway stares back.

Frustrating.

Marching back into the hospital, he heads down the path towards the physical therapy room. If Taki isn't here, then Genome certainly will be, and he can get some information about what is going on. Once more, he checks the door handles leading to each room at the back of the hospital.

Two doors down from his room, the door swings open. Unlike his room which appears as a showroom bedroom, and the physical therapy room which resembles a high school gymnasium, this space is  _ cramped.  _ Dark and cramped. Stacks upon stacks of paperwork are piled from the floor to the ceiling, toppling into each other like poorly-constructed towers. A single gust of wind could knock them all down and drown a person, and so Ryouken keeps his breaths small and contained as he steps into the room. His hand fumbles on the wall for the light switch, but all he finds is, further back in the room, a small desk lamp that emits a sickly, yellow-white light. It hardly casts beyond the first row of paper stacks, and as Ryouken gazes around, he notes that this room stretches further than he could possibly imagine.

Carefully, he winds his way through the maze of papers and archives. He stumbles upon several desks with broken electronics, and boxes piled high with more junk. He pegged neither Taki nor Genome as hoarders, and yet this place could only belong to a fervent collector of  _ everything. _

The room seems to continue on forever until he winds up out of the masses of inky, dusty paper and into a second office—a second place, he thinks, for it looks nothing like the first part of the room. The towers of papers stop at an invisible line on the ground, and the rest of the room is barren and clutter-free. In the middle of the room rests a single, silver, metal desk. Two large, panoramic screens stretch long past the length of the desk, wrapping around the room with their glossy, black surface. He spots himself in their reflection, wide eyes and white-grey hair, dusty from his exploration. Wherever he's ended up seems like a hidden space, but then the door was open ...

He finds the computer full of important documents, none of them password protected. Either this computer is open-access to everyone, or was hidden behind the door and papers and thus unneeding of extra security measures. Still, Ryouken peruses through the documents. Most of the files contain photographs and scans of demigods from Camp Vrains: their medical histories, personal information, class records. None of it stands out as particularly eye-catching information—all camp leaders would have this information on record, and the hospital would be no different from the leader cabin down below.

Further in the archives, he finds detailed records of their abilities: their god-parent's identities and what powers have manifested in each child. Even half-siblings can have slightly different abilities despite their relation to their god-parent, and from these reports the camp leaders have made specific notes about everyone. Ryouken remembers Jin and Ema's watchful eyes during his training sessions, and the lengthy examinations he underwent when he first arrived at the camp. No doubt these documents are the result of those tests.

He flicks the documents closed, glaring at the empty screen. So much for finding top secret in ...

Oh.

Right on the desktop is a link to "PROJECT ORIGIN." The title alone has Ryouken interested. From his research, Camp Vrains has held several projects for young demigods, particularly those excelling at their abilities. He hasn't heard about this one though.

In the folder, he finds several more folders, all sounding much less exciting: history, details, procedures. The names read off like the headings of a scientific paper. However, he finds one folder with "subjects," and within it are  _ his  _ files—and Yuusaku's, Takeru's, and Spectre's too. They've shoved a couple more names further down, but their files are all marked and pinned to the top.

Back to the procedures. Back to the beginning. He finds the document outlining the procedures and skims, eyes darting over the page. His fingertips buzz; residual energy from his abilities. Though he can't manifest any physical power, his mind works like a supercomputer, inputting statistics, defining variables, until his mental processes outrank even an AI.

A genius.

He, child of Athena, is a literal genius.

Project Origin: the removal of the god-power—the ignis—from young demigods. Must be done while they are youth and still manifesting their abilities. Requires precise technology to sever the connection and remove the god-blood from the demigod, thereby rendering them mortal.

He sucks in a breath through his cracked lips. Taki spoke of this—not of its name, but its details. She wanted him to not only take part in this project, but to oversee it. Assist them with it. He was supposed to find Yuusaku and convince him to undergo this procedure, all before he was injured at the hospital. He doesn't remember her mentioning Spectre and Takeru's names, but perhaps they have already agreed to participate in the project; after all, Spectre would sign up for anything just to bask in the attention, and Takeru can be persuaded like leading a cat to fish.

Joy swells in his heart. All this time, they've been preparing him to lead Project Origin.

All this time, the camp leaders have been studying them to turn them back to mortals, removing their godly shackles.

But then ... where did Taki go?

He half-expects her to apparate in front of him and berate him for sneaking out of his room and touching her computer; however, all this time the room has remained blessedly quiet, with only the gentle whir of the computer's engines stirring the silence.

She was in here though, her or Genome, for balanced on the desk is the D-Board. The small bracelet rests in the eerie computer-light glow.

He snatches it up in his hand.

Just as easily as he entered, he slips out of the room. This time, he marches past his room and back out to the open yard where Taki and Genome once showed him how to D-Board. His legs wobble as he toes the ground; these past few days, he hasn't moved around as much besides the physical therapy lessons, and while he's stopped drinking whatever toxic water they've been giving him, he still feels the aftereffects in his arms and legs.

The D-Board pops out of thin air, nothing more than a gentle hiss and the result of a sleek, metal board hovering in the air. It remains still as Ryouken mounts it, shuffling from side to side to correctly place his feet and hold his balance. Only when he feels steady, arms braced out in front of him, does he guide the board towards the edge of the cliff. White, frothy waters churn beneath him, interspersed with sharp rocks. A fall from up here would be lethal.

But the chances of falling now that his head feels clearer and his passion reinvigorated?

Slim.

He leaps off the cliff without a second chance. The wind catches in his arms and the loose folds of the pyjamas he wears, and when he hits the water, he shivers in barely held delight. The water. The air. It all feels so welcoming and new, as if he hasn't been outside in ages. Wind rustles through his white hair, freckling his cheeks with droplets of salt water. He tastes the salt on his lips too. Though he's ridden before, this trip feels different. Better.

As if on wings, he soars around the side of the mountain and back up onto the road leading into the ... city? When he rode on his board before, he never bothered to look at anything but the crystalline water, but past the coastline he sees several clusters of houses, and further back an agglomeration of apartments and skyscrapers. In Camp Vrains, most of the building are wooden shacks and cabins reminiscent of old-school camping. He hasn't seen a city in ages. Then again, if the camp leaders are conducting a private project, this might be the secret facility for them.

He glides up over the railings and down the road. To his surprise, instead of an uninhabited Area 51 zone, the city is bustling with life. People, animals, cars—everyone moves on their own schedule, and though they raise their eyebrows at his flying board, no one comments. To avoid their constant attention, he returns the D-Board to his wrist and travels by foot through the city. Perhaps this area is meant to represent a "non-Camp Vrains" space, and thus without the enhanced technology.

Would Yuusaku and Spectre be here?

Just as the thought flickers into his mind, he sees a dash of snowy-white hair and a voice so cheery and obnoxious it could only belong to Spectre. Healthily deep, Spectre's pitch reaches through the city as he laments about Takeru leaving and them being lost.

Ryouken dashes round the nearest corner to hide himself, and then slips deeper into the shadows so that, unless any other demigods with searching abilities appear, he'll be well-hidden in the shadows.

Spectre and Yuusaku walk side by side, both of them looking harried and tired. Deep bags hang under their eyes. Their skin, covered in a faint layer of dirt, reflects the shining sun. Yuusaku looks even drearier as he drags his legs and hangs his shoulders, but Spectre remains upright and perky.

If they're both here ... then is he meant to bring them back?

A test, his mind supplies. After all, why wouldn't there be a test to see if he can bring the other demigods to him? Taki spoke to him earlier about this, and now—

Now is the day.

He presses a shoulder into the rough brick of the building. Getting Spectre would be easy; he'd hardly need any convincing. But Yuusaku ...

If only Yuusaku ...

_ Crack! _

Ryouken has less than a second to move before a brick topples onto his head. He rolls out of the way, but regardless of whether his movements were stealthy or not, the noise drilled into everyone's ears and alerted them to their presence. Both Spectre and Yuusaku have stopped moving, eyes wide. One of Yuusaku's hands twitches, and then another  _ snap!  _ echoes through the plaza as another brick topples from the building. This one ends up falling several feet away from Ryouken, who presses himself against the wall, willing no one to see.

_ Damn Yuusaku and his ability. _

He hears Spectre let out a short laugh. "Thought we were supposed to be playing it casual," he says.

"I was ..." Yuusaku says, and even without seeing for certain, Ryouken senses the hesitation in his tone. Yuusaku's powers are temperamental, but not without reason. 

“Someone there?"

Yuusaku doesn't reply.

"Well, I'll go look."

His heart races. Spectre—if Spectre finds him, he's screwed. He'll get caught by Yusaku, who won't trust him for a second. Then he'll get neither of them to cooperate, and Taki will berate him for it.

More than anything, Ryouken hates failure. Hates letting others down.

He slips a foot out, sliding along the wall. The shadows keep him partially obscured, but even with his silent breathing, he hears approaching footsteps. Spectre will find him. Spectre will find out.

_ He should,  _ his mind says, and a shock runs through his body. If he wants someone to come with him, Spectre would be the easiest subject. He'd follow along, happy to be entertained and pampered and given all the attention he thinks he needs. Ryouken would hardly need to pitch the idea to him. Most of all, he'd be successful. Taki would reward him for bringing back another demigod.

Another slip and slide. He lets the shadows swallow him, turning around a corner. If he gets Spectre out of Yuusaku's line of sight, they can slip away.

His back brushes against solid stone.

Well. Not as hidden as he imagined, but it'll have to do. He holds his breath and listens for Spectre's plopping footsteps on the dirty alleyway pavement. Closer. Sooner. When the first flash of white appears in his line of sight, he snatches out a hand and swings Spectre into the alleyway with him. One hand claps over his mouth while the other pushes his back into the stone.

"Quiet," Ryouken says, voice no more than a hiss.

Spectre smiles, visible even with the hand over his mouth. Surprisingly, he stays quiet.

From the entrance to the alley comes Yuusaku's voice: "Spectre?"

"Answer," Ryouken says. "Say, 'I'm fine.'"

He slips his hand away, and Spectre calls out, "I'm fine," as requested. His shit-eating smile remains, and well before Ryouken has time to compose himself, Spectre chuckles. "I knew you'd escape."

"Escape?" Ryouken says, and then shakes his head. "Listen, something bad is going on, something that the camp leaders are trying to fix."

"The missing kids?"

He shakes his head. "Project Origin: the existence of demigods and the problems around our powers. These researchers, they've found a way to remove our god-powers. It's a top-secret project, one that has been kept under wraps, but it's ... it's to save us."

Behind them comes Yuusaku's voice one more: "Everything still all right?"

"Peachy," Spectre calls back. He turns to Ryouken, white teeth glimmering in the hazy light. With no more than a couple inches between them, Ryouken can see the splits and tears in Spectre's white lashes. And still, even with the close proximity, he's clueless about what Spectre could be thinking. Agreement? Denial? Murder? He'd smile through all of them.

"You want me to come with you then? And leave Yuusaku?"

Ryouken nods, gaze even.

Spectre snatches up his hand, fire dancing in his eyes. "Then let's go "


End file.
